--- Roric

The four mercenaries entered Lord Stelvan's mansion, finding themselves in a shady atrium. For some reason everything was coated with an inch of dust, like nobody had lived there for a long period of time.

"What's with this stink?" exclaimed Meran. "This nobility! They can't even open a window without smearing their precious names!"

"Be quiet," murmured Demios. "Let's not jump to any conclusion. Something has happened here. We need to find His Lordship."

The building looked like it hadn't been used in the last few months. As they went further in, they reached the main hall and immediately spotted a couple of weird elements. All the furniture had been moved around, to make space in the center of the room, and there were exhausted candles on nearly every available surface. What really caught the eye, however, was a big object that lay in the middle, hidden by a huge piece of cloth that was probably an old set of curtains. The boys exchanged a couple of worried looks, then they moved forward and proceeded to remove the covering.

"No..." whispered Demios "Makers, protect us"

Roric almost puked. There, just in front of them, was a pile of rotten corpses. Nine or ten bodies, and it was safe to assume that at least part of them belonged to those who had disappeared from Aregat.

"Those are..." babbled the boy, looking towards his acting captain.

"Yes. It seems like we have stumbled into the hideout of the culprits."

"But... This should be a nobleman's mansion. If he isn't here, and nobody else is, that means maybe-"

"No... This is very wrong," said Rata.

He had frozen in place, and was very pale. Like he knew something they didn't.

"Look. Those signs," he went on. "Someone has used dark magic here."

The Ekhar boy was strangely concerned and talkative.

What could shake someone like him this much? What dark magic is he talking about?

On a closer inspection, Roric found that many symbols were indeed drawn all around the macabre pile. And there was no need to guess what liquid had been used to trace them.

"Necromancy," murmured Rata, his gaze lost into space. "Forbidden in my land. I've heard many stories. Bad, bad stories."

"We should search the mansion, while we are here," proposed Demios. "If we find some proof of what you are saying, at least we'll return with something valuable."

"Are you crazy?" stepped in Meran. "No way. I want to get out of here. The air smells and... Who or what guarantees us that those freaks aren't coming back?"

"I agree with Demios," said Roric. "Even if we have to fight them, we should at least try to understand what happened."

"Of course you agree with him. He just wants to impress the commander with-"

"Cut it out!" yelled Rata.

All of them turned towards him. Had he even raised his voice once, in all those years?

"We can't let chance slip," he panted. "If we leave, they'll hide and move."

Demios put a hand on Meran's shoulder and the younger boy retracted his body nervously. But then, he shook his head.

"Fine. Let's do this. Just be quick about it."

He went upstairs, while the others sighed in relief. After hearing their acting captain's instructions, they split up and began inspecting the house.

As expected, Lord Stelvan was nowhere to be found. The sheets of his bed were darkened with blood but the stains were very old at that point. Inside some rooms they found signs of other unspeakable rituals, but nothing as gruesome as the mess in the main hall. Demios literally turned the library upside down, with the help of his companions.

Roric noticed a picture of the nobleman with his son.

Where's his wife? Maybe she died before they could portray the family. The boy looks so... Sad.

A couple of minutes later he and Rata came across a part of the room that had been purposely hidden from the rest with wooden panels, but the covering was now open. Inside were a diary and a couple of old tomes written in another language. The memories seemed to belong to Lord Stelvan's mother, who lived at the mansion even when the rest of the family was in Aregat.

According to those pages, she was an historian with an incredible knowledge in mysticism and forbidden arts, very fond of her grandson Rickhart, the one she referred to as her pupil. As the diary went on, it became clear that the woman was the head of some sort of occult society and had spent her entire life gathering books on something she didn't dare naming. The only thing she wrote in detail of was the strong bond with her nephew, who was constantly mistreated by his strict father because he wanted to study rather than become a great warrior. In the last entry, Lord Stelvan's mother told that she had fallen ill and was about to die. Rickhart seemed to have begged his father to leave Aregat and visit her, but she feared that time wasn't on her side. The rest was just gibberish, probably written by the old lady right before passing away.

It took the four mercenaries the entire night to search around, sleeping in turns because they wanted to keep watch outside just in case. At the end, when the sun was about to rise, Demios collapsed in a chair.

"I'm exhausted," he said. "But we definitely found a lot about this wicked woman. Her followers must be the ones behind the entire thing. Maybe they killed her family after her death."

"So, what do we do?" asked Roric. "This place and the people who have done those rituals..."

"I don't know," replied the other boy. "It's too big for us. I think it's time to move out."

In that moment, noises started echoing from the main hall. The entire group held the breath, drawing weapons in silence. Then, they put out every light and headed for a side room, to check what was going on.

Two cloaked figures were dragging three prisoners through the entrance. Behind them a third person, much bulkier, came carrying more corpses. Another man came in, his face uncovered, and from the way he moved Roric guessed that he had to be the leader. He had to be in his late teens at most, which would have been strange enough in itself, yet the most upsetting part was his appearance. His hair was grey, like that of an elder. The skin of his face and hands was pale and unnaturally wrinkled, like he had lived for fifty or sixty years at least. A creepy air seemed to surround that guy, as he ordered the other cultists around with ample, theatrical gestures.

The big man threw the bodies on the top of the pile and went back outside, while the others forced the prisoners to their knees. Those poor people didn't even complain, strangely, looking like they were under some kind of slumber instead.

What's with them? Normal people would be screaming and fighting back but...

Then, before the mercenaries had the time to react, the cultists slit the throats of the three and put their corpses with the others.

"Necromancers," whispered Rata. "They play with minds. Watch yourselves."

"I knew it was wrong to stay," commented Meran. "This is too much."

"Wait," said Demios. "Looks like they are preparing some kind of ritual."

The cloaked figures were tracing more signs on the floor with the fresh blood provided by their victims. There was no way of knowing what they were about to do. In the shadows, Roric noticed the boy from the lake of Guhrien gritting his teeth. Standing there and watching wasn't really his style.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

What are we supposed to do? I want to stop them as well, but-

"Enough of this," growled Meran, jumping forward with his sword ready. "Let's take care of those bastards."

The others tried to stop him, but the boy was too fast. The leader of the cultists reacted almost instantly, on the other hand. From the center of his left palm, the young man fired a luminous beam in the direction of the mercenary. To avoid it, Meran had to interrupt his charge and hide behind the staircase. Meanwhile, the enemies realized that they weren't alone and started looking for covers as well. Rata took that opportunity to shoot an arrow, hitting one of them in the shoulder, while Roric and Demios turned a table around to use it as a barricade against the wicked magic. In any case, their advantage was gone.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" said the leader. "A pack of rats crawling into the wrong hole. Looters, perhaps? Not that it matters. You ruined one of my men, you know?"

His voice was sharp and clear, and didn't reveal any sign that he was concerned by their presence. He made a gesture at his left and the wounded man stabbed himself, letting his body fall onto the pile. The other one gave one last glance at the mercenaries, and went back to the ritual.

"Stop right there," threatened Demios. "You are the one behind the disappearances, aren't you?"

"What if I am?" asked the leader of the cultists. "Will you challenge this?"

He abruptly produced another ray of energy, which hit the table and split it in half. The part of wood where the magic had landed, a few palms from Roric's terrified eyes, was blackened and decaying.

This man is dangerous. We should have stayed hidden!

"Roric," whispered the acting captain. "We have to get out of here, and fast."

The younger mercenary readied himself and nodded, standing up at his side. Behind them, Rata had prepared another arrow.

Let's be quick. Why do I have this bad feeling?

"Now!"

The two in the front dashed sideways and the archer let another shot fly. The necromancer quickly ducked, dodging it and sprinting towards the door. Meran came out from behind the stairs and tried to rush him, but he was already too far. The young man stopped on the door for a moment, and addressed the last of his companions.

"I'm leaving this to you. Our time is short," he yelled, turning back to run. "Make sure they don't leave this house alive!"

"What are you saying?" roared Meran. "You mongrel, do you really think that you can simply turn around and-"

When he went silent, Roric noticed something. An arm was holding his left leg. The boy from Guhrien turned towards it, his expression painted with pure fright, realizing that he was standing just next to the pile of bodies and that one of them was still alive.

White, lifeless eyes, devoid of any rational thought. Putrescent flesh and rattling muscles. The monster made a gurgling sound and crawled towards Meran, who fell to the ground and tried to roll away.

What... What is this?

"Meran, stay back!" shouted Demios, stepping in to cut the hand away.

The abomination didn't even blink. The severed limb flew across the air and landed in front of the remaining cultist, who was laughing hysterically. Before the four boys, more rotten bodies were coming back to life. Rata got closer and put an arrow through the cloaked man's head.

"We late," he said. "Ritual is complete."

"Oh, really? That's good news!" exclaimed Meran, whose face wasn't amused in the slightest.

The dead rose all together and began stumbling in their direction. Roric gulped.

Walking corpses... This can't be real. No, this can't be...

"Begone, you monsters!" yelled Demios, showing them the tip of his sword.

They ignored him, and kept coming forward. The cultist who had just died stood up again, with the arrow still in the middle of his forehead, and joined the mass of enemies in their advance.

"What do we do?" asked Roric. "Demios, please. We have to run."

Yet the acting captain didn't look that scared anymore.

"Wait, I think we can fight them."

"Don't be an idiot!" shouted Meran. "This is no time to be a hero!"

"Just look at them," went on Demios, taking a step back to keep his distance from the monsters. "They don't feel any pain, but they are weak and slow. How many?"

"Sixteen," answered Rata. "Let's lure them in the corridor. Better place to fight."

They retreated through the entrance, followed by the living corpses. Roric impaled one of them with his short sword and the son of Ekhar shot another in the head, but they didn't even flinch. Meran kicked one of the abominations down while Demios, the only one who had a shield, slammed back the ones who were getting too close.

"Let's move as one!" he yelled. "We can make it. The exit isn't far!"

"What about them?" said Roric. "If we let them out, they'll run in the fields."

"I saw a cart outside, yesterday. We'll bar the door with it and search for help."

And so the mercenaries fell back, fending the assaults of the dead with all their might. Rata emptied his quiver, uselessly, then he drew his blade as well. They somewhat managed to gain an advantage using the fact that the corpses had gotten stuck in the corridor, and went for the main door. There, however, the four boys found out that the bulky cultist from before was still waiting for them. The necromancer had probably tasked him with guarding the atrium.

Shit, I'm running towards him...

Roric noticed at the very last moment to be the closest to the enemy, and the one who was being targeted. With a quick twist he intercepted the knife of the cloaked man, headed for his chest, and managed to deflect it. The blade scraped against his leather jerkin without cutting it, but the cultist was way stronger than the boy and grabbed him in the air, slamming his body into a side wall.

Demios intervened, slashing through the back of their opponent. The others, meanwhile, remained at the end of the corridor to keep the horde of dead people away, desperately hitting their shaky limbs and rotten flesh. A couple of the monsters were already dismembered but they still tried to crawl on the ground using what remained of their arms and legs. Roric got back on his feet and joined his friend against the cultist.

"No, this one is mine," ordered the older boy. "Help the others or we'll be overrun!"

"You sure?"

"They need you now! Go!"

Roric obeyed, dashing towards Meran and Rata. One of the living dead charged at him as he arrived, but he saw it coming a mile away and cut its head with a single swing. The abomination fell lifeless, and didn't move anymore. It was clear that all that training was finally starting to pay off...

Wait a second! Why doesn't he stand again? Maybe... It's worth a try.

"Their heads!" he yelled. "Go for their heads!"

Rata spun his sword, decapitating two living corpses in quick succession. Meran roared ferociously and kept severing their limbs. The fact that they were holding the end of a narrow corridor meant that they never had to face more than a couple enemies at once, and that was the only reason why they could survive. In the main hall, thought Roric, they would have been easily trampled by the sheer number of assailants.

Demios was right, we can fight them! If only-

Behind him, a metallic noise caught his attention. The cultist had managed to thrust his short blade deep into the belly of the young acting captain, who was screaming in pain. The boy, however, was still alive. He kicked his enemy back and inflicted a deep wound in answer. The cloaked man took the hit but kept fighting like he didn't feel it.

I have to help him. But then the others will be in trouble...

As he stepped back to rescue Demios, anyway, the other yelled at him.

"I said stay with the others! I can take this one by myself."

Reluctantly, Roric went back to slaying the monsters and soon after they were all fumbling on the ground. As fast as they could, the three mercenaries cut the remaining heads. When they finally turned towards Demios, they found out that the duel had already ended and their acting captain was the winner. Nonetheless, a lot of blood was flowing out of his wound. He let his sword fall and collapsed, leaning his back on the wall.

Oh, no... He needs aid!

"Demios!" screamed Roric. "Don't move! Guys, find me something that I can use for-"

"It's useless," grumbled the injured boy. "Look at that blade."

Rata reached for the knife and picked it up. The metal was stained with blood but also with another purple liquid.

"Poison," he murmured. "It's drenched. Can't tell what it is."

"What can I do? Answer me, Demios!" cried Roric. "I will save you, I promise!"

"Hand me some wine, if you have it. If I have to die, I want to have some good red on the lips."

"Don't say that, you idiot!"

Meran just stood in the middle of the room, like paralyzed, with a shocked expression on his face.

"Oh, I'm afraid it's too late. My sight is already getting worse," said Demios, coughing some blood. "When you see Frauli, tell him that he can ask the girl out. He'll understand."

"What? What girl?" asked Roric. "We haven't time for your jokes..."

He felt wet traces on his own cheeks. Demios seemed to be crying as well, as he became paler.

"Don't worry. It's a thing of our past," he murmured, with a gradually weakening voice. "Get along with Meran in the future... The commander... Caretaker, is that you?"

"He is hallucinating," said Rata. "That stuff kills his mind."

"Oh, no. No, no!" yelled Roric. "Demios, focus! Stay with us!"

But the older boy didn't answer, and his breath stopped. He was dead.

The young mercenary stepped back, with trembling hands. Rata bowed, in respect. Meran came back from his state of slumber and fell to his knees.

This can't be. How did we come to this?

After a few moments of silence, Roric looked at his bloody hands and spoke again.

"Guys," he said. "We need to report this as fast as we can."

"Yeah," replied Meran, with an empty voice.

They went for the door, still dazed by what had just happened.

"I'll join you later," whispered Rata.

The other two turned back, inquiringly.

"Someone has to cut his head. Or he will turn into those. House tainted, too. We should burn it."

Roric slapped his own cheeks, trying to keep that horrid thought away.

"Come, Meran. Let's find something to start the fire with," he sighed.

Two hours later, the body of Demios was buried in the garden and the mansion roared with flames. The three survivors, still shaken, took the way back to Aregat. Despite it being summer, Roric felt chills for many hours.

We have stumbled into something big.