I had arrived at the village an hour before nightfall, and rallied everyone. The river was once again out of control, so evacuation was impossible. Aina led most of the villagers into the storage huts, which sported doors heavier than paper.

“Our hunters wrapped arrows in oil soaked cloth and placed themselves in windows throughout the town.” Corran reported. “The other men are preparing all the torches and axes we can muster.”

A nod was the only response I could give. Instinctively I reached for my amulet, only to find it missing. It rested around the widow’s neck, slowing the curse that possessed her.

It was possible Duke Morfran would come with more than just ghouls. He could have been the one who called the beithir. If the Witch Yseult was his vanguard, I couldn’t imagine his army held.

Light faded. Fog crept from the trees and into the streets. I muttered a small prayer to Gealach, wishing the Silver Champion herself would join the battle to come.

Hollow moans echoed in the fog. The dead were coming. It wasn’t long before one shambled into view. Hunters let loose flaming arrows. Ghouls dropped as the fire consumed them. Any that made it close to the storage huts were pushed back by men with axes.

A horrific screech erupted from the sky. The sound shattered concentration, and flaming arrows began missing their targets. A few arrows shot through the sky, aimed at whatever flew above us.

I looked for the weakest point in our defenses and charged. Three ghouls surrounded one of the men who got pushed away from his group. My blade carved through the first with little trouble. While I couldn’t burn them, a few swift chops rendered their twitching corpses harmless. On my signal, several men rushed out of hiding and poured buckets of holy water onto the incapacitated dead. Once again the hunters hit their marks, and the first wave of ghouls was routed.

The fog thickened. The moist air chilled everything it touched. Torches grew dimmer, and visibility waned. The second wave of ghouls was much harder to fight without support from the archers. The chill stiffened muscle, and made movement sluggish.

Two ghouls appeared from the fog behind me. Boney fingers slashed through my billowing sleeve. I rolled back, kicking one in the knee hard. The old bone shattered, crippling my attacker. I got to my feet and created the space I needed to properly use my sword.

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Through the fog I heard the screams of men falling to the ghouls. Surprise attacks from the fog made even the slowest walking dead incredibly dangerous.

I yelled the signal to light the bonfires. The village built on lumber trade had had no trouble building up huge pyres throughout the village. The great fires cleared some of the fog, and rose overall morale.

Another screech pierced the air. Huge talons rushed past me, grasping at empty air beside me. Copper red feathers soared back into the air. I called out more orders for the men to focus on the ghouls, yelling as loud as I could so the creature above could find me.

The screech alerted me to the dive attack, and I leapt into the air as high as I could. My sword bit into the creature’s wing, causing it to almost crash into one of the pyres. It was a trechend, a massive vulture with three heads. Like the beithir, this was one of the wild aes sídhe created from negative emotions.

The bird’s chest inflated with air. I quickly covered my ears as it let out a devastating screech. I turned and ran toward the horde of ghouls, with the giant bird rampaging behind me. Enraged from its injury, the beast chased after me without regard to the undead it tore apart on the way.

Thin wooden frame and paper shattered as I crashed through the paper doors of a home. Three heads burst through behind me, but the body was too big to fit.

My blade arced through the air, and severed one of the scraggly necks. The vicious beast pushed even harder to get in and attack me. A beak chomped at me, grabbing hold of my stone arm. The head that held me shook violently, knocking me around the room.

With another slash I did enough damage to free myself, and my follow up slash removed the second head. The final head crashed into me, flinging me across the room. My back hit the floor hard, forcing the air out of my lungs. The pummel of my sword slipped from my fingers.

The creature bit down on my stone arm again, and resumed its violent shaking. Several kicks landed blows on its face, but didn’t do much to stop the brutal wrenching. Finally my boot connected with a black eye and I dropped to the floor.

A plank of splintered wood lay next to me. A quick thrust pierced the injured eye, and I scrambled back toward my sword. A few more slashes ended the trechend’s frenzy.

Ghouls began to enter the house. I backed up some stairs to avoid being swarmed. The stairwell clogged with wriggling dead and gave me space to climb out a window.

“Most of the second wave is hacked up and burning,” Corann said when I came into view. “The wounded have pulled back for treatment.”

“How many men can still fight?” I asked. The grizzled man sported a few new scratches, but didn’t seem to notice them.

“Most of us are still in fighting shape, though the archers are running out of oiled strips cloth for their arrows.”

A chorus of terrified screams broke out from inside one of the storehouses. An unnerving silence immediately followed. I told Corann to stay with the men and keep the undead out.

The heavy door wouldn’t budge. I called inside to be let in, but only eerie silence answered. The scent of blood rose in the air, as dark liquid flowed out from under the door. The air around me grew heavy with the dark curse that had just slaughtered the people inside. The dark force inside let out a deep cackle.