They left the small village and kept moving until our heroes stumbled upon an abandoned stable. It seemed to be in good shape. The door was jammed, but it was easily unjammed with a quick strike of Simon’s axe. With some more strikes they reduced the door to a nice bonfire, which was lit by one of Shannon’s fire enchantments. It was cold outside, but it was nice and warm inside the stable. Zakariah sat down next to Tristan around the bonfire and opened his oversized backpack again.

‘I promised to tell you more about my adventures, didn’t I?’ said the old man as a huge grin appeared on his face. He took out a huge map of the Four Vales. There were small drawings and strange markings everywhere.

‘What are those markings?’ asked Tristan as he followed the lines with his finger.

‘That, young one, is written text. Made by the God of Wisdom himself, you know.’

‘You’ve been to the Pinnacle?’ asked Archmage Shannon with a sudden interest. ‘You’re not even a mage.’

‘No, I am not and yet, Shinden personally invited me! He even taught me how to write and read some of his writings.’ said the old man while he was plucked his thick, white beard. ‘It was a long and difficult journey to the Pinnacle, but I made it! Now, Shinden might have made the climb a little easier by designing a staircase alongside the huge mountain, but a big part of it was covered in snow and ice. Back then, I was still a young lad, so that wasn’t much of an issue for me, but the creatures on that mountain!’

‘More creatures? You’re starting become a bit repetitive, old man,’ sneered the Archmage.

‘Shhh, I want to hear what happened next!’ said Tristan as he listened closely to Zakariah’s adventure.

‘Alright then, I saw some kind of icy spirits, drifting on the wind. They actually cast down my travelling companion, you know. Those mountains have a name as well. It’s not indicated on any map, but they’re known as the Spine of The Gods. Between these two mountain rows is a huge gap. There’s also a river flowing there. The ground is covered in skulls and bones. The bones of travelers and adventurers that dared to climb the mountains. Down in that deep ravine, I found this.’ Zakariah took out one of his drawings again. It was some sort of ink black hole in the side of the mountains. ‘We did not dare to go inside. Legends say, that those caves are inhabited by Gorgons,’ said the man as he shivered while he took out another drawing. ‘The upper body of a beautiful woman, but the lower body of a coiling serpent. Some of them even have serpents on their heads! They are skilled with bows and swords alike.’

‘Gorgons? Don’t make me laugh!’ cried Shannon as he started to laugh out loud. ‘Fairytales I say, fairytales!’

‘Just because you’ve never seen it, doesn’t mean it isn’t real,’ said Zakariah as he cleared away his drawings.

‘Better get some sleep before we move on,’ suggested Tristan. ‘I’ll take the first watch, you take the second, Rhyddion?’

The broad, muscular man nodded his head and made himself comfortable in a big pile of hay. Later that night, the storm arrived. The rain was pouring onto the wooden roof and water was leaking onto the ground. The storm turned the nocturnal landscape into a terrifying sight. Everywhere the shadows seemed to move as if they were hiding some horrible creature.

‘What’s that horrible smell?’ asked Archmage Shannon. ‘It’s been bothering me this whole evening.’

‘Well, get used to it, there’ll be much worse things than bad smells in the places where we’re headed.’ replied Darren as he was sharpening his daggers.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Rhyddion knew exactly what Shannon meant. He had smelled it too. It smelled like…like death.

‘Something’s wrong about this place,’ he said.

‘That’s exactly what I just said!’ yelled Shannon. ‘We should get out of here while we still can.’

‘Why? There’s nothing in here and there’s nothing out there!’ yelled Darren back. ‘You’re being scared of absolutely nothing!’

Rhyddion stood up and joined Tristan outside the stable. The boy was completely soaked, but he remained on his post, ever keeping an eye to the shadows.

‘There’s something here with us, Rhyddion,’ he whispered.

‘I know and I don’t think it’s that friendly.’

‘What do you think happened to the owners of this place?’

‘They probably starved.’

Tristan looked at Rhyddion with a look of disbelief.

‘Starved?’

‘The Countryside is no Arcadia. Even if you live in the slums and the alleys, there’s always enough food in Arcadia. Out here, however, you’re forced to provide for yourself and if the rain decides to wash away your crops…’

Suddenly, a loud scream rose up from the stable. Rhyddion pulled his greatsword from his back and stormed inside. What he discovered inside seemed like a nightmare come to life. A man, or a woman, was standing in the corner. He, or she, was covered in maggots, flies and worms. The face was no longer recognizable and his, or her, belly was cut open around the middle. Rhyddion rammed the creature down to the ground and plunged the tip of his sword into the creature’s neck. It started shaking and screaming relentlessly until it was silenced forever.

‘What was that thing!’ asked Simon, who was also the one who screamed the loudest.

‘I think we just found the owner of this stable,’ said Darren.

As the thunderstorm kept raging outside, more things started moving in the shadows.

‘We have to get out of here!’ A rotten arm clawed his way through the wooden wall behind them. ‘Now!’

They drew their weapons and ran outside where they found themselves surrounded by five walking corpses. Some of them looked even more hideous than the owner of the stable, but they all had one thing in common: they had no faces. They stretched their cold, dead arms towards the living, breathing heroes in between them. Ready to take what the dead had lost, ready to take their lives. Lightning struck again and the rain poured down on the horrific scene, but suddenly, another light lit the dark night. A flaming sphere emerged from Shanondarion’s staff and set one of the corpses ablaze. With a quick and powerful blow of his shield, Tristan knocked down the corpse next to the Archmage and pierced its chest with his sharp blade. Darren proved himself to be more agile than the others as he moved graciously between two of the undead and cut them down with quick strikes and swipes of his daggers ending his opponents by simultaneously planting his daggers in their skulls. The final corpse had grabbed Simon’s throat, but Rhyddion’s blade cut straight through the remaining muscles and bone and the corpse’s rotten arm fell to the ground. It seemed to be shocked by the loss of his arm, but had no time to scream as the giant greatsword descended upon its head and split its skull, releasing a spray of black fluids and green gasses.

‘Follow me! We’re getting out of here!’ yelled Rhyddion as more corpses seemed to move in the distance, there was just one problem. Zakariah was nowhere to be found…