A chill wind swept down the mountainside, Fria hugging her fur coat tighter as the first flakes of snow began to fall.

“Not much farther,” she said, her breath misting.

They’d stayed the previous night in a cave, Fria and Zan huddled together for warmth. But now they’d been walking for miles, the forest thinning as they climbed deeper into the mountains.

“Make sure to keep that hood up when we arrive,” she said, turning to give him a sly smile.

Darian adjusted the hood of his cloak. It was one of the gifts the goblin chief had given him before they headed north. The cloth was thick and made of old wool, but it was comfortable. And it would hide his pale face and white hair. If someone started asking pointed questions, he could use [Vampiric Charm] to soothe them. But he hoped he wouldn’t need to use it.

He sniffed the air, the smell of woodsmoke on the breeze.

“Village is close,” Darian said, moving to Fria’s side. “I can smell it.”

It had taken a while, but Darian had finally adjusted to his increased perception. Now he could pick out distinct sounds and scents, and even Fria and Zan’s soft steps were loud in his ears. And peering through the foliage, he saw the tops of log houses in the distance.

They rounded a hill, the village down in the valley ahead.

“Home,” Fria mumbled, grinning. But then her smile turned into a frown, and she made her way down the hill in silence.

It had been a few weeks since she lost her father, and though she tried to hide it, his loss deeply pained her. Darian attempted to offer what comfort he could, but he often felt he hurt more than he helped. When she sees her mother, she’ll finally be able to let it all out. Darian gave Zan a scratch between the ears as they walked, the wolf seeming to grow somber as they got closer.

“That’s new,” Fria said, peering at the wooden wall that surrounded the village.

Darian spotted a sparrow perched in the branches above. Reaching out with his mind, he activated [Dominate Animal] and directed the bird toward the village.

“I sent it to check for men wearing armor or carrying weapons,” Darian explained to a perplexed Fria. “I need to know if there are Justicars inside.”

After a few minutes, Darian’s connection to the sparrow was severed.

“That’s strange,” he said. “I didn’t tell it to attack or anything.” A worm of doubt creeped into his gut. Perhaps coming here was a mistake.

Then a huge bird, one Darian figured to be an eagle, came down from the sky to perch atop a branch overhead. It was brown feathered with a white underbelly, and the feathers on top of its head stood up as it watched them.

What are you doing out in the dark? He peered at the odd bird. Did you eat my sparrow? Darian activated [Dominate Animal] on the eagle, turning to observe the walled village.

But the skill was rejected.

What? He looked back at the eagle and used the skill again.

----------------------------------------

[Dominate Animal] has failed. Target’s level exceeds half the skill user’s total level.

----------------------------------------

Darian’s total level was twelve, meaning the bird had to be higher than level six. But he had little time to question it. The eagle opened its mouth and screeched, the sound nearly deafening in the silence.

Fria backed away, Darian’s body suddenly enveloped in golden light.

“What is this?” Darian looked down, his body glowing like a lightbulb.

“It’s a tracking skill,” Fria said, grinning. “And I know whose eagle that is.”

A man came barreling through the underbrush some distance away. Darian listened as he grew closer, noting the short distance between his steps. Then the man burst into the starlight, his long beard clinking with silver rings.

“Hands up!” he cried, raising his crossbow.

Zan growled, stepping between the man and Darian. Then he lowered the weapon and smiled.

“Fria?” His eyes widened. “Fria!”

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Then the two of them came together, locking in a tight embrace, the man about half Fria’s height. It was as Darian watched them that he realized the man was a dwarf.

“Hey,” Darian said, waving his arm, his body still glowing. “Care to turn this off?”

The dwarf and Fria parted, the man looking Darian up and down. Then he whistled, his eagle screeching once more. The light faded.

“And who is this?” the dwarf asked.

“A friend. One who helped take down the necromancer.” Fria stepped back and stood beside Darian. “His name is Darian.”

The dwarf ran his thick and scarred fingers through his tangled black beard, his bushy eyebrows drawn downward. But then he shot forward and gripped Darian’s hand, giving him a firm shake and a warm smile.

“Names Durance,” he said. “Ranger and senior member of the Emerald Branch.”

The Emerald Branch? Fria mentioned them. I think she said her dad used to be one. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You’re oddly cold,” Durance said, stepping back. “You’re not sick, are you? We’ve got enough sick people already.”

“I’m perfectly healthy.” Darian did his best attempt at a reassuring smile, to which Durance just grunted.

“People are sick?” Fria asked. Then she squinted past him at the village down the hill. “And why are you here?”

Durance sighed. “Aye, people are sick.” He stared off toward the mountain peaks. “There’s a plague growing in Lonelen. It started in earnest a little over two months ago, but it’s managed to spread all the way out here.”

“A plague?” Darian was immune to disease and illness, but the same could not be said for his companion.

“Yes, one that’s already ravaged the capital. The Justicars, the Emerald Branch, and the Knights are doing our best to maintain order…but things are not going well.”

“My mother.” Fria’s voice cracked. “Is she sick?”

Durance’s shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath. “She is.”

Fria moved past him, Zan following. “Take me to her.”

Durance fell in beside her, quick despite his short stature. “Now hold on.” He gripped her by the arm. “She’s in the longhouse with the other infected. You can’t see her right now.”

“And who gets to decide that?” Fria pulled her arm away.

“The Justicars.”

Hearing the name put Darian on edge, and he glanced at Fria. “Why are they in a little village like this?”

Durance motioned for them to follow. “We traveled here from Ulsfel as reinforcements,” he said.

“How convenient,” Fria said. “That they would send more so soon after we set off.”

The dwarf winced. “Command is in chaos,” he explained. “Between the demonic invasion and now this, the king’s and the churches’ forces are pushed to their limits. Some of our information was…off. But the church authorized more men as soon as the mistake was realized.”

Fria scoffed. “That mistake cost my father’s life.”

Durance stopped, the wall of the village a dark outline behind him. “I know. The Justicar, Jorg Halion, reported on what happened.” He looked at Darian. “Though he made no mention of you in his report.”

Darian was a bit surprised, though admitting he allied with a potential monster probably wouldn’t look good for Jorg. “And is Jorg still here?”

Durance nodded. “He’s with the rest of the infected.”

***

The village was a dreary place. Everywhere Darian looked he saw shuffling shapes in the shadows, heard hushed voices behind closed doors. And Justicars patrolled the streets, their heavy boots splashing in the mud. But with Durance by their side, they paid the group no mind.

They walked until they reached a large home on the north side of the town. The place had its own short wall of stone built around it, and Justicars brandishing crossbows patrolled the perimeter.

“Wait here,” Durance commanded, his eagle perched atop a nearby house.

As he walked up the steps to the quarantined house, Darian looked around, inspecting the guards and the villagers.

“It’s like a prison here,” he said. “And this many Justicars? Did they really all come to kill the necromancer?”

Zan sat by Fria, the archer’s eyes darting from home to home. “Durance is an old friend of my father’s, but he’s a loyal Argus follower. He’ll only tell us what he’s allowed to.” She stared at the looming home atop the hill, worry creasing her face. “Something isn’t right here.”

Durance returned before long. He looped his thumbs into his belt as he came to stand before them, the rings in his beard clinking.

“I’ve arranged for you to speak to your mother, but only through the door. The infection can spread from the air, so you’ll need to keep your distance.” He handed her a thick length of cloth. “And please put this over your mouth.”

Fria tied the cloth around the back of her head, her mouth covered. Then Durance brought her up the steps, a pair of Justicars falling in behind her.

One of the patrolling guards stopped behind Darian, his teeth chittering.

“New here, right?” he asked.

Darian turned to find the man pulling his fur cloak tighter around himself. He was young, probably twenty-two or so at the oldest.

“Just arrived, you?”

The Justicar rubbed his hands together and blew into them. “Been here about a week.” He nodded at the house up the hill. “Poor souls. Seems like more of them get shuffled in each day, including some of my brothers.” He lowered his head in prayer. “May Argus guide our path.”

“The infected,” Darian said. “What’s the mortality rate?”

The young Justicar squinted, not quite understanding the question.

“How many survive the illness?” Darian rephrased.

“Oh. None sir.” He stared up the hill. “None."