“Our travels took us to a kingdom of dust,

Of people ruled by endless bloodlust.

Our sleepless bodies wanted to lie,

But to do so too soon would have been to die.”

Opening lines of The Tale of the Dead Lord’s Hunt.

Garassk drew a few more lines on the parchment, as looked at the scene in front of him. His snake-like tongue tasted the air for the scent of people as focused on his sketch. Life was everywhere, the scent of people was far away at the moment. The closest scents that he could taste right now was deer, bugs, birds, and fish.

The sketch he was working on at the moment was a bleaker scene than he would have liked. The entire forest in front of him seemed on the verge of death. The land around him was dry and brown, and the white leafless trees poked out of the ground like skeletal fingers. Despite the signs of life, Garassk seldom saw a single living thing, and the few that he did see all looked starved.

The scent of deer suddenly danced along his tongue as he finished shading the drawing. Garassk put down his pen and parchment, and crawled toward the scent, stopping when he spotted the lone doe. She was foraging for food, and if he was lucky, she wouldn’t notice him. He crawled forward, mentally judging whether or not he should use a dagger, or trust in his teeth and claws to do the job.

As soon as he got within arm’s reach, something whistled nearby, and the deer collapsed in front of him. Garassk curled his green-clawed hand on the handle of the sword at his waist, and stood up in time to see an armored figure walking in front of him with a sword pointed forward.

“You there! Lizard!” the man shouted, stopping where he stood. “You’ve picked a poor spot to die.”

Footsteps hammered away in the distance. Garassk moved toward the man and swung his tail, sending his opponent to the ground. The three more scouts arrived to see him standing over the unconscious body.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was he with you?” Garassk asked, trying his best to sound innocent. “I thought he was the intruder.”

The soldiers drew their weapons. Garassk blew a shrill note into his flute as the scouts approached him. A crossbow bolt whistled through the air and hit one of the men, sending him backwards. Garassk charged forward, ramming his sword hilt through the middle man’s throat. The last man grabbed him by his shoulder, forced him to the ground, and snapped his sword by stomping on it before pinning him to the ground with his other foot. A spear tip to the throat kept him from trying to get away.

“You should have run,” he sneered.

“You’re about to wish you had,” Garassk choked.

A low growl caused them both to jerk their heads just off to the side. A gargantuan varanian lurched forward, his eyes burning with fury. His large body was solid muscle. Despite this, the man pinning Garassk cackled. One of the varanian’s legs was thinner than the rest of his body, and had clearly been wounded in the past. He was limping forward, and held a walking stick.

“Is this the best you can throw at me?” the man sneered. “Some old lizard with a limp?”

For all of his talk, the man wasn’t quick enough to dodge when the varanian swung his walking stick, which he might have noticed was really a thick club if he’d looked closer. When the man doubled over, the brute grabbed him and slammed his head against a tree hard enough that Garassk heard a crack. The older varanian either didn’t hear it, or didn’t care, and kept slamming the man against the tree. When he was finally done, the new varanian tossed the corpse aside with contempt.

“There was probably a faster way to do that,” Garassk said, looking over the bodies that his older companion had just slaughtered. “Not to mention a cleaner one.”

“Cleaner?!” the elder snapped. “You think a crippled varanian lives to old age by fighting ‘cleaner?’ The only thing you gain by fighting fair is scars. Never forget that, hatchling!”

“Yes Rathorn,” Garassk replied, bowing his head.

“Now go check the corpses,” Rathorn growled.

Garassk went over to the nearest corpse and picked his way through it. Apart from some food and hidden weapons, it didn’t seem like the man carried anything of value. He abandoned that man and went over to the next one. He grabbed the small pack that the man had at his waist, and found a heavy sack.

“Hello, what’s this?” he said out loud. A closer examination showed several silver coins. Rathorn came over to investigate.

“Looks like these are no common bandits,” the old lizard said, turning to the deer. “No matter. I believe that there’s a feast to be had.”

“Thanks for shooting that thing, by the way,” Garassk said. “I thought we agreed that you’d wait for me to wound it first.”

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“Wasn’t me. Check again,” Rathorn said, holding up his crossbow. “This thing shoots out bolts. That’s an arrow sticking out of it.”

Sure enough, the shaft of an arrow was poking out of the deer’s flank.

“Well then who shot it?” Garassk wondered out loud.

“I did,” a new voice said. The two varanians turned their heads to see a cloaked figure standing on a ledge slightly above them. The voice indicated that she was a woman, and she slowly lowered her hood, revealing thick black hair, and dark skin to match. She also carried a hunting bow, and Garassk was willing to bet that she knew how to use it.

“Who are you?” Rathorn growled.

“I could be a friend,” the woman said. “Depending on how this goes.”

“Depending?” Garassk asked, tilting his head.

“We’re going to need more than that if you’re really our friend,” Rathorn warned.

Before she could say anything, Garassk heard footsteps in the distance.

“Dammit,” Arra muttered. “Let’s move.”

“You still haven’t…” Rathorn began.

“That’s an army coming,” Arra said. “If they find us, we’re all dead. I’ll explain later.”

She took off without waiting to see if the varanians would follow her. Garassk decided to do so, and Rathorn followed, muttering curses under his breath the whole time. They finally stopped when they reached a thick forest, leaning against the trees to catch their breath.

“Now what’s going on here?” Rathorn eventually asked to break the silence.

“Very well,” the woman said. “My name is Arra, and I wasn’t with those men who tried to kill you. I didn’t even notice them until after I’d shot the deer.”

“A good start,” Rathorn said. “Tell me more.”

“This is the kingdom of Dustburg. There’s no rest for travelers here. Only for the dead.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Garassk said. “What have we walked into? What’s going on here?”

“The land is dying,” Arra said. “It’s getting harder to sustain villages, and people are turning on each other. There’s nothing here but war and death.”

“If only we’d arrived sooner,” Garassk said. “We might have been awake enough to indulge in the local entertainment.”

“Amusing,” Rathorn grunted. “Well, we were hoping to get some rest for the night. Is there nowhere to go? No monastery? No inn? No castle?”

“There’s a castle around here,” she said. “Fort Bloodspire.”

“Nice name,” Rathorn said. “But so long as the beds are comfortable, I don’t care.”

You’re actually going there?” Arra gasped.

“That’s the plan,” Rathorn grunted.

Arra’s face hardened.

“If even half of what I’ve heard about that place is true, then that’s an even worse idea,” she warned.

“Oh? What have you heard?” Garassk asked.

“Monsters prowl in that town,” she said. “Many have tried to claim it and name themselves ruler of this land. None of them are ever seen again. Everyone around here will tell you the same, and warn you to pray to any god you know of for protection.”

“Peasants always do that,” Rathorn snorted. “What you’ve described sounds like every town we’ve ever walked through. But we’ve already gotten into a fight with men just outside these walls.”

“True,” she said. “But I’ve been close enough to the town to know that there’s something off about it. It’s always night. No one has seen the lord of that castle for hundreds of years. We all assume it’s been abandoned. Nobody ever came to help us with those soldiers, and many have tried to get help.”

“Sounds spooky,” Garassk said. “But can it really be worse than fighting everyone else on our way out?”

“Perhaps not,” Arra said. “Depending on how much you’re willing to risk it.”

“Well, we need somewhere to sleep,” Rathorn said. “You know somewhere better?”

“No,” Arra sighed. “I wish I did, but I don’t. Fine. I’ll take you. Gods help us.”

“Good,” Rathorn said. “But if this land is as dangerous as you say it is, then we should get our armor first.”

The two varanians went over to where they’d stashed the rest of their armor before hunting. They were already wearing gambesons. It was the metal that would have worn them down. Now both of them donned their cuirasses and helmets. Garassk then grabbed his shield and the mace head, which he latched to the tip of his tail. Rathorn attached a spear point to his.

“Done?” Arra asked, tapping her foot against the ground.

“Yes,” Garassk said.

“Then let’s move!” Arra barked. The three of them began their journey. Cold air massaged Garassk’s body as they made their way through the dead forest, making every step feel like a walk towards certain death.