Riley found little of value inside the house. Two waterskins, a few bags holding strips of jerky, and a modest handful of coins that barely added a pittance of weight to the coin he was carrying. He wasn’t exactly proud of himself, robbing from people who were either dead or on the run, but things being as they were... he could hardly afford to get hung up on morality.

If anything made this trek easier for himself, he was willing to take it.

They made a fire in the hearth, the main room of the house having been largely untouched by whatever had ravaged the rest of it. Warm orange light filled the room, a contrast to the pitch blackness outside. Even the glow of the broken moon didn’t pierce the clouds.

Riley had removed his gloves, resting them in his lap while he warmed his hands. “Not a bad way to spend the night, huh?” he bluntly asked.

Mesquard sat on his haunches. The rat had been on edge from the moment they entered the house. But aside from signs of a struggle, Riley couldn’t see anything that was a cause for concern. It’s warmer here than in your pocket, I suppose. And this ‘jerky’ is rather tasty, he reluctantly admitted.

Arubis netted her hands together in her lap, the old rocking chair beneath her creaking at even the slightest movements. “I suppose we should make use of shelters such as this wherever possible. We have to cross large stretches of wilderness out this way.”

“True enough,” Riley murmured. If he ever made it back to his old life, as unlikely a pipe dream as it sounded, he’d punch the lights out of anyone who spoke romantically of the snow. “So uh... how far to the nearest town?”

“I am not entirely sure. The map is not too precise when it comes to distance, Riley,” she replied, her serpentine eyes affixed to the flickering fire. “If memory serves, there should be a mining colony only a few days ahead of us. Orespeak.”

“Mm. Prospectors, huh? Might be more shelter to make use of.” He examined their surroundings, letting his hands rest upon the dusty floor. Ideally it wouldn’t be totally abandoned as this place seemed to me.

The wind whistled through the holes in the house’s walls, kicking up a horrible wailing sound that sent shivers racing down the length of Riley’s body. He grit his teeth.

“It is certainly better to be indoors on a night such as this,” Arubis admitted.

Mesquard twitched. The smell in the air grows thicker, he remarked.

“You’ve been saying that for a while now. But what kind of smell are we talking about here?”

The same kind that stalked the halls of Fort Bane. Death, but tenfold fouler.

Another wailing gust echoed through the halls, this one strong enough to make the walls and floorboards creak in protest. Riley turned his gaze to the window, watching as a few stray snowflakes were blown into the crude glass.

“So... monsters?” he asked, slowly pulling his gloves back on. He had made sure to close the door behind them in a bid to conserve whatever warmth the fire could provide. But, even with no way for anyone to sneak up on them from behind, he had kept his weapons resting at his sides on the floor.

Of a sort, yes, Mesquard said, turning his nose up to face Riley. A foul sickness, unlike those crafted by beloved Mother Aqar’Ghul. An aberration most vile, not meant to exist in our world.

“The Rot,” Arubis murmured.

No. But kindred to it.

The wind grew more intense, followed by a resounding bang as the front door was blown inward. It crashed and clattered against the wall, spurring Riley to his feet with his weapons clutched firmly. He stood, facing the window, just as the clouds parted enough to allow a sliver of moonlight through.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The snow stirred.

Slowly, pitch black figures rose up from the frosty ground, chunks of white sloughing off their oily black flesh. They bore the shape of a human, but their arms and legs were unnaturally long. And when one of the three figures turned to face the window, Riley saw that he had no face at all: Merely a great black void, that seemed so deep that a person could push their whole arm into without touching any surface beyond.

Arubis’ eyes widened, a shocked gasp rising in her throat. “Barrowmen!”

The door behind them was suddenly smashed into a pile of splinters, one of the lanky figures creeping through the doorway. He was silent, save for the wet slapping of his footsteps.

Riley tensed where he stood, eyes widening as the lanky figure made his way closer. The other barrowmen outside were drawing toward the window, brandishing their sharp talons. Save for one, who held a sickle-like blade that hissed with choking smoke.

Riley flung himself to one side as one barrowman rushed his way, the creature’s claws cleaving a chunk from the stone wall. Riley grunted and slammed his hatchet into the undead’s back, smoke spraying from the freshly gouged wound. Yet the barrowman scarcely noticed, swatting Riley across the room. He grunted and skidded to a halt, driving his staff into the floor to halt his momentum.

The creatures outside started striking the wall, tearing great chunks from it. A cold, wailing wind breached the freshly made holes in the wall, making the flame in the hearth sputter.

Four of them, Mesquard said, scurrying into the shadows.

“At least,” Riley mumbled. Now was aa good a time as any to give his new spell a field test, he supposed. “Mesquard, get into cover! You too Arubis!” He didn’t know if his magic could even touch her, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Riley raised his staff as the four shadowy creatures stalked his way. They were slow, but he didn’t dare take more than a few hits from them. Already his side ached, and that was just from a glancing blow.

A thrum of power raced through his body, focusing on the tip of his staff. Then a violent purple glow shot up the obsidian tip, a shock wave shuddering down Riley’s arm. Rippling waves of light, only barely visible in the dark, radiated toward the barrowmen.

Horrid groans echoed from their void-like mouths, as black pustules began to break out on their oily flesh. Sections of their skin began to peel away, curling up like rinds of fruit. Yet, for as damaging as the spell was, Riley was soon huffing from the exertion. He swayed uneasily on his feet, sweat pouring down his face. He could only maintain the Flesh-Rend for a few seconds before the strain became too great, and he nearly dropped his staff as he ended the spell.

The shrieks and groans of the barrowmen soon fell silent, the figures left briefly hunches over from the pain. Riley grit his teeth and powered through the fatigue, rushing toward the nearest barrowman. His arm windmilled down, cleaving the air with his hatchet, and cut the creature’s head from his shoulders in a single swing.

By the time his headless corpse hit the ground, the other three had mostly recovered from the pain. One swept his arm toward Arubis, who stood by the remnants of the door. Riley’s eyes widened, a cry of alarm rising in his throat. Yet when he struck her, Arubis’ body became as mist. His claw passed clean through her, and Arubis reformed a few seconds later as if nothing had happened at all.

“Damn,” Riley murmured in disbelief. One less thing to worry about, at least.

The one with the sickle lunged at him with uncanny quickness, his blade leaving a smoking trail in the air behind it. It came quicker than Riley expected, and he only narrowly raised his hatchet in time to block the strike. The impact still swept him off his feet, slamming Riley’s body into the far wall. A pained gasp rose in his throat, punctuated by a sharp, stabbing pain in his ribs.

Grimacing, Riley stumbled back as two of the barrowmen staggered his way. He ducked low, his side screaming in protest, avoiding a claw that ploughed deep into the wall. His hatchet swept upward, cutting through the barrowman’s elbow and releasing a spray of smoke from the stump. And yet the creature only barely noticed, turning his eyeless glare toward Riley.

He broke into a ragged sprint, dodging several swipes and stabs from the beasts. “Come on, come on,” he huffed. Riley knew he had to get more space on his side. Fighting these creatures in an enclosed room was just making things easier for them, and it was only their staggering gait that kept him from being torn asunder.

A glancing blow caught Riley in the back, bowling him over and sending him skidding him toward the far wall. Riley wheezed in pain, his vision swimming wildly. He rolled onto his side, numb hands fumbling for the Lodeshard hitched to his belt.

The blade-toting barrowman strode forward and raised his weapon high. His attack was only halted when Mesquard, suddenly appearing above the creature’s right shoulder, bit into an exposed section of his neck and tore directly at the ebony sinews beneath. The barrowman shrieked, seizing up long enough for Riley to grip the Lodeshard and press it tightly.

The pain in his body was washed away in an instant, a startled gasp rising in Riley’s throat. He gripped his hatchet with renewed focus and lunged at the barrowman just as Mesquard was flung away. The blade bit into the barrowman’s neck, his head shorn halfway off. Both he and his blade hit the ground with a clatter, leaving just two of the creatures left.

Riley raised his staff as both monsters rushed toward him as quickly as their awkward gait could carry them. A short pulse of Flesh-Rend erupted from his staff, lasting for barely three seconds. Using it still sent a kick through Riley’s body, but more of the barrowmen’s flesh was shredded from that brief burst of magic.

Riley grit his teeth and lunged at the nearest one, killing him with two swift strikes to the neck. But the other recovered with unexpected quickness, lashing his gnarled hand outward and sweeping Riley into a nearby wall. A shudder raced up his body the pain nearly tearing a scream from his lips.

He righted himself, a few shaky breaths rising in his throat. The last barrowman, undaunted by the deaths of his kin, shambled his way. Riley jabbed his staff forward, punching the sharpened tip under the monster’s ribs. It groaned, briefly jolted backward, allowing Riley to sweep the hatchet forward with his other hand.

A hard blow caught him in the temple, cleaving into gnarled flesh and bone, knocking him to the ground. Riley pressed on, shouting at the top of his lungs as he hit the barrowman’s head again and again, until the writhing monster finally fell still and silent.

Riley huffed and stumbled back, sagging against the wall. He stared, briefly, at the fast-dying embers in the fireplace. His heavy breathing was the only sound left on an otherwise silent night.

So much for a peaceful and relaxing night.