“I want you two to stay here,” I told the girls. “Bar the door after I’ve gone, and stay quiet. I’ll come and find you when it’s over.

We’d stopped at an abandoned farmhouse Senna had directed us to an hour or so out of Fernwick. It didn’t look like it had been used in a while, and was perfect as a base of operations.

“But I can help,” Lira said. “I can heal you if you’re injured, and I have the staff.”

I shook my head. “That staff will be useless against zombies. You could cast every spell it has, and they’d just keep coming. No, I want you two out of the way for this one.”

I didn’t need the distraction of keeping them safe, and I saw in her eyes the moment Lira realized that. She nodded. “Alright, Kaelan.”

Senna was watching me, her eyes full of fear. She’d already figured her presence would be more hampering than helpful. I went to her, cupping her cheek. “Immortal, remember? Nothing will happen to me.”

It was the first time I’d discussed it with her, though she’d stared at me in awe when I’d returned to our base in the copse of trees. Lira had blessed the bivouac there, which fortunately I’d never needed, and she’d told Senna the whole story, exactly as we’d discussed.

Senna nodded, her cheek pressing to my palm. “I’ve never much been one for Gods,” she murmured.

I gave a short laugh. “Neither have I.”

“Recently, I’ve begun to change my mind,” she added.

I grinned. “Me too.”

I gave them both a kiss, then went to my horse. I wasn’t taking the mare with me; I wanted a stealthy approach. But I took my bow and quiver to go with my blades, emptied my pack of everything I wouldn’t need, and headed out on foot.

The first thing to do was to get a lay of the land. Best case, Fernwick was fine, and it was only Rolf that had been zombified. I held on to a sliver of hope that Fernwick was so far off the beaten track that it hadn’t been found, but I couldn’t shake the sense of dread, and of being pursued.

Circling around, I approached from the north, coming up through the trees that ringed Fernwick, and stopping on the edge. The village lay ahead, some open farmland between me and the white wattle-and-daub buildings I could see beyond. Closest was Bjorn’s mayor house, the largest building of all. It blocked much of my view of the village beyond, but it would also let me draw near without being spotted.

I hoped.

I watched a while, but there was no activity. No one in the fields, no one to be seen past the houses that blocked most of my view. It was mid-afternoon, and far too quiet for the time of day. There should be people out, working in the fields or walking around. My dread lay like lead in my stomach, but I wasn’t surprised. Fernwick had fallen, and the only question was what had happened to the people.

It didn’t even look like there were signs of a fight. The village was perfectly peaceful; no houses on fire. I ran forward at a crouch through a field of wheat that hadn’t yet been harvested, the long ears offering cover.

From the village came an irregular banging noise, like a door slamming repeatedly in the breeze. Just one more indication of what I would find: nothing.

I crept up to the back of Bjorn’s house, listening hard. There was only the bang of that door, and the faint moan of the wind.

Edging around the side of the house, I moved to where I’d be able to see into the main street. Rolf’s forge was on my right, my house a good way down the road that stretched before me.

All was quiet.

And then someone shuffled into sight. They took a pace or two, then stopped. Then another pace, and stopped again. It was a man I didn’t recognize, and though it was difficult to tell at this range, his skin was pale like Rolf’s had been.

Another figure shambled out from between two houses. A woman, this time, in a dress that was torn off one sleeve. She also moved in that same strange shuffling gait, like both of them had forgotten the reason they’d left their homes and were trying to remember.

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I saw someone else, further down the road, banging against a door that was open. The figure pushed at the door; it slammed into the door jamb and bounced back. The figure didn’t move, just watching, then they reached out and pushed the door again. Slam. Wait. Slam.

So now I knew what had happened to Fernwick. The whole damn village had been killed and raised as mindless zombies.

But where was the necromancer?

I left my bow looped over my shoulders, and drew my rapier and dagger—an arrow would do nothing to these creatures. If they attacked me, I’d need to take their heads off. Yet they didn’t seem interested in the world around them, shuffling about almost mindlessly, pointlessly drifting from one place to another. They’d be easy to avoid. I'd be able to explore without worrying about them.

Perhaps I could find clues to tell me where the necromancer had gone.

I stepped out from the side of Bjorn’s house, into the street, and had taken two paces before I saw them. A group of three zombies, two women and a man, standing unmoving only a few yards away. They’d been stationery, not even a breath to warn they were there.

They saw me at the same time I saw them.

It was like someone had flicked a switch. They went from lifeless to animated in the time it took to register their presence, from stationery to wild movement in a blink. Their mouths opened wide, white, bloodless gums and yellow teeth. Even while they were still yards away their hands reached for me, fingers clawing in the air like they were digging into my body.

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move, stunned by surprise. Then I grimaced, gripped my rapier and dagger, and readied myself. They might once have been two women and a man, but now they were dead. Nothing more than the tools of a necromancer. I had to remember that.

They came on faster than I’d anticipated, closing the gap at a shambling run. Far more agile than the disinterested shuffling I’d seen thus far. Two of them would reach me at much the same time, the third lagging only a pace or two behind. I circled to one side, forcing two of the zombies behind the leader. It was a woman; perhaps it was even Nira, the one Rolf had asked to fetch his hourglass when I fought Jarek. The zombie looked a bit like her, but with pale face, snarling teeth and redness around her eyes, it was impossible to be sure.

My rapier took off her nearest arm at the elbow, and she didn’t so much as blink or stagger. Her other hand grabbed at my breastplate, trying to pull me in as she her head thrust forward, mouth opening wider.

I drove my dagger in through her mouth and up into her brain. The blade went in easily, with less resistance than I’d expected. But her body was a dry husk. There was no blood, no reaction, just a snarl as she kept trying to get her teeth into me.

Okay then. A dagger in the head didn’t stop them.

I’d stepped into a fucking horror film.

Leaving my blade where it was, I pulled back sharply, my broad-bladed rapier coming up to take her remaining hand at the wrist. Then the edge of my backstroke found her neck.

Just like with Rolf, it cleaved cleanly through, her head bouncing off into the street, my dagger still buried in her mouth. It shouldn’t be that easy to behead someone, but their bodies were so dead and dry, there was little to stop my blade. The rest of her – it, she wasn’t a woman anymore – the rest of it slumped at my feet, save for the dismembered hand that still gripped the top ridge of my breastplate.

Well, that was fucking disgusting.

It might’ve taken only a few seconds, but the two zombies behind her had kept coming. The first grabbed my arm, sinking his teeth through my leathers and into my flesh. His bite was stronger than it should’ve been, his grip on my arm like steel. I couldn’t shake him off, and my rapier was in that hand.

The other one arrived, throwing itself at me. I spun, blocking the attack with the body of the one who had his teeth in me, and the second zombie crashed into the first. She staggered and fell, the force of her collision dislodging his teeth from my arm, and I cried out as he tore away a chunk of my flesh.

That turned out to be a mistake.

The other zombies had ignored us up to this point, but at my cry their heads whipped around. Zombies starting running toward us from all directions. Two from down the street that led to my house. One from near the forge. Another from the down the other way. All getting closer by the second.

It hurt to swing my arm, but I twisted against the steel grip of the zombie who hadn’t let go, somehow breaking free. Maybe I snapped his thumb off, but this wasn’t the time to stop and check. Instead, I spun around behind him. He didn’t even try to turn, as if out sight, out of mindlessness. I severed his head with a single well-aimed blow, and he dropped just like the other.

Two down. A village to go.

The one that had been knocked to the ground hadn’t tried to rise. She crawled toward me, and I didn’t notice in time. A hand grabbed the ankle of my boot, yanking my leg toward her open mouth. I stabbed down in reflex, my rapier pinning her to the ground, but that did nothing; her hand still pulled at me.

For a moment, I was off balance, unable to free myself, my blade wedged in her. And that was when a zombie leapt onto my back. Teeth found the side of my neck. Another zombie came from somewhere, bowling into us. I went down, both zombies on me, trying desperately to hold off the newcomer with my hand at its throat. But it’s gnashing mouth drew closer, my arm bending despite all I could do. A third arrived, pulling my arm away, sinking its teeth into my hand.

I screamed at the pain, more and more teeth arriving, and when they finally tore out my throat, I welcomed the darkness.