THE BOGATYR AND THE BOG (PART 2)
“Curses are bad business, no doubt about that. They be wounds in the Aether, festering hunks of magical power unbound to any will, cept maybe the gods. It takes a lot to make a curse, lotsa magic and emotions, all wrapped up in stinking horror. But once it is born it's a hell’o time destroying them. Breaking even young curses is hard. As for old ones, forget it. better to just let them sleep and hope they don’t wake up.” - words of (self-taught) Exorcist Fergus of Fallstone.
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Borka was the next to die; the group was passing through another thick section of reeds, and he tripped. Dor heard a cry and turned his head just in time to see Borka go under. He never came back up; in fact, they never found his body despite minutes of frantic searching. One moment he was with them; the next, he was gone, swallowed by the bog.
The goblins clustered together after that. Moving slowly and unwilling to stray more than a few steps from Vlatka or Cole. Borka’s sudden death had hardened something in the Bogatyr, his expression a cold mask of anger. It somehow made Dor even more nervous. Would Cole snap and beat someone for their incompetence? Idly, Dor wondered if it was better they never recovered Borka and spared him whatever punishment the scarred giant would deem worthy for failure.
This deep into the bog, there were fewer signs of goblin activity. Any paths carved here had already faded away, leaving the group increasingly forced to wade through deep muck or thick reeds. Even as the sun climbed high in the sky, the fog didn’t clear. It simply blended with the dreary skies and made the world a thing of pale light and twisting shadows. Yet despite the lack of a clear trail or even decent visibility, Vlatka led them onwards. She seemed to know where to go, rarely stopping to correct their course. Dor had no clue how she knew; he just guessed it was part of her magic.
For his part, Dor focused all his attention on the sounds around them. If he could give them a few seconds' warning, it might save someone’s life, preferably his. As they skulked through another deep section of the mire, Dor obsessed over the sound of frogs.
Reaching another section of soggy land, Dor paused to listen, detecting a lull in the croaking song. Counting his heartbeats, Dor felt panic build in him like steam in a kettle. When his thundering heart reached thirty beats, and there was still no sound, Dor shouted. “SOMETHINGS WRONG!”
No sooner had he said that than the gurgling cries of the Vadnuti filled the void left by the frog's silence. Vlatka hissed some truly acidic curses and gestured for a thicket of reeds. A lifetime of unquestioned obedience showed itself, and the surviving goblins dived into the reeds. Cole followed after them, axe ready and eyes scanning the marsh. The cries grew closer with every second as Vlatka pulled on some reeds and wrapped them around her staff, muttering witch-words as she did.
Dor felt something pass through him, a wave of power he felt but couldn’t understand. The reeds around them started to shift, bending and twisting in a great rippling spiral. Hundreds of plant shoots wove themselves together around the group. Nature answered Vlatka’s call, and weaved a dome of reeds around them. Enclosing the group in an upside-down wicker basket fit for a true giant.
The shrieks and bubbling wails of the Vadnuti got louder and louder until something slammed into the side of the basket. Dor flinched away as the weaved reeds bent but did not break. More impacts followed, but the Vadnuti couldn’t get to them. Kneeling in the muck, focusing on her staff, Vlatka protected the group from the attacking undead. But Dor could see she was starting to strain, so apparently could Cole.
Stepping close to the wall, Cole gestured to the goblins. “Shaman Vlatka, open up a small gap if you could. Everyone else, make sure nothing gets past me.”
With a jerky nod, Vlatka complied, and part of the reed wall slithered open. Creating a gap just large enough for a goblin to slip through. The gap was instantly filled by a warbling monster with a flattened face. Cole’s axe came down and split its malformed head, only for the Vadnuti to be replaced with another of its kind. This one also died, as did the next and the next. Cole worked like a peat harvester, chopping through monsters like he was carving up bales of peat.
As the Vadnuti died, they dissolved into crumbling muck, and soon Cole was almost buried in the dark earth. Liba saw this and stepped forward with her fishing spear, thrusting into the churning mass of peat and Vadnuti, pushing both back so Cole could fight unhindered. Others in the surviving group joined the effort, the act similar enough to their normal work they could ignore the screaming tide of monsters. Dor stepped forward slightly but glanced at Vlatka, putting himself between her and the entrance. He would protect her; yes, that was what he would do.
The screams of the Vadnuti decreased and eventually stopped, leaving only a puffing Cole and wide-eyed goblins. Covered head to toe in dark fermenting sludge, Cole wiped his face and looked to Vlatka. “They are gone for now; we can keep moving.”
Nodding, the witch snapped the reed wound about her staff, and the wicker wall collapsed, unraveling back into normal plant life. Exposing the small mountain of muddy peat left where Cole had held the entrance. Zorg looked at this, and a slightly panicked laugh escaped him.
“That was incredible! I bet you could kill them all, Bogatyr!”
Wearily, Cole pushed out of the reeds, cleaning his axe as he did. “I already have, at least twice. Which is why we need to reach the heart of this curse and destroy it.”
Zorg’s grey skin became paler. “W-what?”
Gesturing for the group to follow him, Cole explained. “We can destroy the Vadnuti’s bodies; that’s not particularly hard. But some power deep in the bog remakes them soon after. They are limited in number, but they will keep returning. The force that attacked us was probably most of them, so we bought ourselves time here.”
Nervously the goblins trailed after Cole. Dor helped Vlatka pass through the reeds; she was initially unsteady on her feet but recovered by the time they reached the deeper water. Dor tried to ignore the ugly look Liba gave him. She didn’t approve of him acting as Vlatka’s guard, apparently.
After taking a few moments to clean their weapons and themselves, the group continued deeper into the bog. The fog started to grow thicker and thicker, slowing their pace and forcing the goblins closer together.
Watching the swirling mist, Dor asked Vlatka. “Can you do anything to get rid of this fog?”
Vlatka gave him a withering glare, and Dor shrunk back. “I cannot; besides, it’s not fog. It is ectoplasm, rotten soul-stuff, evidence of the curse’s influence.”
Then to prove her point, she gestured towards Cole, who Dor realized was still quite visible despite the ‘fog.’ Squinting, Dor realized the mist shied away from the Bogatyr. Parting slightly as Cole trudged through the marsh. An unnerving sight even if the fog was mundane, which it clearly wasn’t. Dor didn’t know what ectoplasm was, but the way Vlatka said the word was enough to worry him.
Forced into a tight knot, the expedition pushed through the fog, following Cole like a boat does its prow. Following Vlatka’s directions as they waited for the next attack, expecting a swarm of Vadnuti to erupt out of the fog at any moment. Moving with as much speed as they could muster, the group reached a point where the ectoplasm was so thick Dor could barely see his hand in front of his face.
Cole’s deep voice, muffled by the fog, reached Dor as he stepped closer to Sana. “We have arrived; ready yourselves.”
The looming bulk of the Bogatyr was a murky shadow just in front of the goblins. He had stopped wading through the bog water and was doing something with his hands. Dor couldn’t tell what, but he guessed it was something magical as the temperature dropped around them. With a noise like a screaming child, the fog parted before them, cut open by Cole’s power. Dor watched with wide, fearful eyes as the Bogatyr ‘gripped’ onto the fog and pulled it open like a set of doors.
The water Cole stood in had frozen over, turning into icy slush, and hoarfrost clung to his muddy body. Glancing at Vlatka he said. “I can pierce this barrier, but not for long; you either succeeded, or we all die.”
Vlatka nodded and trudged forward, Dor following right behind her, his spear held ready to protect them both. They passed through the gap Cole created and into the heart of the curse. The fog here was faint, a bare wisp compared to outside the barrier, letting Dor see where they were. A peat field of mossy mud and small grasses centered around a great willow tree.
The willow tree was dead; no drooping leaves hung from its sickly-gray branches. Instead, the crooked old tree bore strange fruit; corpses dangled upside down from its highest reaches. Not upside down like hung from their ankles, no they defied gravity and fell up into the sky, stopped only by the nooses wrapped around their necks. Thirty corpses hung inverted, swaying in an unfelt breeze, grey slime dripping from their feet. Droplets of which bloomed into clouds of ectoplasm that fed the fog banks surrounding the clearing.
Dor forgot to breathe or move and was shoved out of the way by Liba, who stopped her rebuke of him as she took in the sight. Dor saw a flicker of fear and the tiniest hint of guilt cross her face. Despite everything that made Dor feel better, even Liba wasn’t immune to the horrible sight.
The goblins entered the clearing, and Cole followed them, the fog snapping in behind him in a nearly-physical barrier. Unsheathing his axe, Cole approached the willow tree; Vlatka and the goblins followed. Something malformed exploded from the ground near Cole, and he knocked it away with an almost contemptuous strike. As the thing hit the mossy ground, Dor saw it was half of a Vadnuti. Its new body was not yet done, and it had attempted to attack Cole without any legs.
Before the Vadnuti could react, Liba and Zorg hacked it apart, earning an appreciative nod from the Bogatyr. With Cole and the other goblins to guard her against more attacks, Vlatka reached the horrid old willow. Dor hated being this close to the thing and kept glancing upward at the dangling corpses. They were shriveled and bent, looking like inanimate bog ghouls. Vlatka seemed to pay them little mind, instead focusing on the huge knot bulging up where the tree’s trunk and roots met. The knot was big as a person and clung to the tree like an infected wart.
Vlatka drove the end of her staff into the knot, punching through moldering bark and into something wet. The whole tree started to shudder, and Dor looked up at the branches just in time to see the hanging corpses open their empty eyes and scream. It was a gods-forsaken sound, more like a gurgling rasp than proper keening. The boggy ground started to shake and rattle as more Vadnuti pulled themselves out of the peat. Cole lept into action, Liba and Zorg helping him. While Dor and the injured Sana guarded Vlatka.
The witch was muttering a string of curses, both magical and mundane, as she drove her staff deeper into the knot. She wiggled the gnarled wood, and Dor swore he saw the staff wriggle like something alive. A cracking sound caught Dor’s attention, and he looked at Sana. Eyes wide with shock, Sana looked down at her stomach; a cruelly sharpened branch had run her through. Sana didn’t even have time to scream as the branch lurched up with another creaking crack, taking the injured goblin with it.
Shrieking as loud as he could, Dor yelled, “THE TREE! THE TREE IS ATTACKING!”
Vlatka looked up from her work just long enough to shove Dor down, saving him from a lashing branch. Mouth agape, Dor watched as the lower branches thrashed, one wicked-looking bough questing for Vlatka’s flesh. The old witch leaped back with unnatural dexterity, flying through the air like a startled frog. She landed beside Cole, who was busy threshing away rising Vadnuti limbs. The monsters were foregoing forming entire bodies and simply attacked with arms and mouths thrust out of the peat.
Dor started to frantically crawl away from the tree, but Vlatka’s voice stopped him. “NO! You can finish this! Snap my staff with it in the knot, or we all die!”
Glancing back at the tree and its whirling limbs, Dor covered his head with his hands and started to cry. A roar of fury forced Dor to look up, and he watched Cole run toward the tree. Branches lashed out at him, and despite his huge size, the Bogatyr dodged them. Avoiding the huge creaking boughs and receiving only small scratches from their sharp twigs. Pushing through the slashing branches, Cole reached the knot and gripped onto the staff.
But instead of snapping it, he did something else. Dor couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw Cole wipe his hands along fresh cuts and smear blood on the staff. Whatever Cole did, it worked, and the willow's thrashing slowed and finally stopped. With a wet squelch, Cole pulled Vlatka’s staff from the knot and stalked over toward the group; with his free hand, he grabbed Dor’s collar and dragged him as well. The goblin watchman wept as he was deposited in front of the group.
Ignoring him, Cole addressed Vlatka. “I put my power into finishing the spell, so you didn’t have to sacrifice your focus to complete it.”
Vlatka took back her staff, pointed at the tree, and barred her teeth in a tired smile. “Good, good, but this isn’t over yet. The Ur-Vadnuti is cut from its place of power but not destroyed.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The tree started to move again; the great knot bulged and twitched. Pulling away from the willow like a bloated tick leaving a dead host. The knot burst with a wet cracking sound, sending a shower of slime and wood everywhere. Long grey-black limbs stretched out of the knot, grasping onto the willow tree and pulling the creatures attached to them free.
It looked like something had taken a goblin corpse and stretched it. Pulling its arms and legs until they were unnaturally long and thin. Lengthening the torso and neck into impossible proportions while squashing the skull into a tight oval. The monster was slightly taller than Cole, and its body leaked ectoplasm in a constant billowing nimbus. Unsteadily, it shuffled forward, impossible limbs sliding over the mossy ground.
Cole unsheathed his axe and worked some magic to lengthen it into a polearm. Glancing at Vlatka, he said, “You did your part; now I will do mine.”
Then the Bogatyr charged the Ur-Vadnuti, his weapon’s spear edge ready to impale the monster. The Ur-Vadnuti lacked eyes; its sockets were empty pits leaking tears of slimy ectoplasm, but that didn’t stop it from reacting to Cole’s charge. Its mouth opened unnaturally wide, and a warbling shriek exploded forth. Dor flinched away and didn’t see the clash, just Liba’s look of disgust. Forcing himself to watch the fight, Dor started breathing heavily; even if they won, he might not survive this.
Cole drove his bardiche forward, and the Ur-Vadnuti dodged, its body moving with oily grace. It answered his attack with a slack haymaker that Cole ducked underneath. Moving low, the Bogatyr swiped out for one of the monster’s legs. It jumped, springing up and landing next to the tree. Ur-Vadnuti reached up and grabbed one of the willow’s largest boughs and snapped it clean off. Oily ectoplasm soaked into the improvised cudgel, and the branching end of the bough started to twitch.
Swinging the cudgel, the monster went for Cole’s legs. The Bogatyr rolled forward, using the monster’s reach and size against it. Coming to his feet, weapon returned to its axe form; Cole drove its edge into the Ur-Vadnuti’s leg. The thin limb snapped like kindling, and Cole’s blow cut clean through and continued until it severed the other leg. Yet, to Dor and, apparently, Cole’s shock, the Ur-Vadnuti didn’t fall.
It hovered there legless, one arm coming to grab Cole. The moment of surprise was what the monster needed, and its arm wrapped around Cole, coiling about him like a snake with prey. Recovering, Cole pushed off the ground, moving backward, letting his momentum and weight snap the arm. Cole freed himself from the limb just in time for the tree-limb cudgel to strike. The Bogatyr was sent flying, landing a distance away and skidding through the mud. Dor winced at the blow and looked to Vlatka; she’d gotten on her knees and shoved her hands into the mud, muttering a spell.
The ground started to shake, and the goblins watched as the mossy peat in front of them bulged and broke. Part of the sodden earth pulled itself up out of the muck, taking the shape of a giant frog. The frog was easily large enough for a man, let alone a goblin, to ride on. Its body was wet mud, its skin was mottled moss, and two bulbous eyes of swirling marsh water protruded from either side of its head.
Puffing itself up, the frog swelled its throat and let loose a titanic ribbit. Dor and the other goblins stumbled back, practically knocked over by the sound's force. As the target of the ‘attack,’ the Ur-Vadnuti fared worse; its body was blown to pieces. Pieces that were already reassembling themselves in a whirl of ectoplasm.
Hands still deep in the muck, trembling with the effort of her summoning, Vlatka cursed. “Gog’s fist! The accursed thing is really the ectoplasm.”
Dor looked to see what she was talking about. Now that he was searching for it, he saw a great mass of thick fog hanging above the Ur-Vadnuti, a tether of the stuff connected to the stretched goblin corpse. Dragging it about like a leash… or a noose.
The giant frog charged the reassembling monster, slamming its huge mass into the Ur-Vadnuti and shredding the monster into pieces. Each of those hunks of Ur-Vadnuti hit the ground and sunk into it. Vlatka pulled her hands from the dirt and leaped backward with frog-like agility. Just avoiding the Ur-Vadnuti as it exploded out of the peat below her. Dor and Zorg both tumbled away from it. Dor watched as the Ur-Vadnuti clambered out of the ground like the giant frog of before. The monster’s mishappen head turned towards Zorg and Dor, its mouth falling open in a horrible shriek. Long spindly limbs reached out for them, and both goblins turned to run. They’d only taken a few steps when Dor realized escape was impossible for both of them. Operating on pure instinct, Dor reached out and grabbed Zorg, yanking on him and sending the bigger goblin to the ground. Dor didn’t look back to see what happened, but he heard Zorg scream.
Running for the edge of the clearing, Dor stopped and realized he was trapped; the fog was still thick as goat milk. Finally turning around, he saw Zorg die; the Ur-Vadnuti had wrapped its arms around the goblin and squeezed him till he burst. Fighting the urge to vomit, Dor looked for another escape; he saw none. Only Liba standing over a prone Vlatka and… and the Bogatyr running towards the mud-frog.
Without Vlatka’s magic, the spirit’s temporary body was simply inanimate earth. A large mound of peat and moss, much like the bog mounds Dor used to climb as a child. Cole ran towards the mud-frog and ran up its side, using it like a ramp to jump into the air. Bardiche held up above him; Cole swung it through the true body of the Ur-Vadnuti. Frost and grey slime trailed after his blade as it cut through the ectoplasm and split the monster open.
The stretched corpse went limp, and the fog started to dissipate. Dor thought he saw screaming faces form out of the ectoplasm as the ephemeral material evaporated away. Despite his victorious strike, Cole landed hard, slamming into the wet ground with an audible crunch. Pulling himself to his feet, Cole shuffled towards Vlatka, clearly favoring one leg. Glancing at the spot where Zorg had died, Dor slowly went to join them. He didn’t know if anyone saw what happened, and if they did Dor was prepared to lie and say he was trying to push Zorg out of the way of an attack.
Liba, Cole, and Vlatka didn’t seem to notice his approach; they were busy staring at the ruptured fogbank that was the Ur-Vadnuti’s true body. Leaning on his polearm, Cole said. “I didn’t expect it to be a type of Wraith, but it should be finished. It's fading quickly, and without the curse to draw power from, it won’t be much of a threat.”
Vlatka nodded, supporting herself with her staff, strangely mirroring Cole. “I’ve never seen someone cut a wraith’s body. Is that halberd of yours enchanted?”
Glancing at his weapon, Cole replied. “Yes, but not like that. I can touch and damage wraiths; it's part of being a Paladin. I don’t like to use it since it can damage the wraith’s soul, but…. I don’t think there was much left to damage in that thing. It will fall apart now that I’ve wounded it like that.”
Still gripping her spear, Liba asked. “Is it done? Are we safe now?”
Letting out a slow breath, Vlatka said. “For now, we should be. I don’t think I fully broke the curse on the bog, but I ended its hold on that corrupted soul. It should take centuries before something can activate it again.”
Looking over to the crumpled remains of the stretched goblin, Cole mused. “This was old magic, something from before the Final Gates, I would suspect. What could have woken it up?”
Liba followed after him, looking at the ruined body with undisguised dread. Vlatka also stared at the body, a frown growing on her face. “I have a few ideas, but we should return to the village. We must know what happened to ensure future generations don’t repeat this mess.”
Cole nodded at that and leaned down to examine the stretched corpse. He didn’t see the spear thrust, only looking down at the two prongs sticking from his chest with genuine shock. Liba pulled her weapon out of Cole and charged Vlatka, the stunned shaman tried to raise her staff, but the exhausting fight had taxed her. Liba stuck her spear into Vlatka over and over, savaging the shaman’s chest and leaving her to drown in blood. Returning to the collapsed Cole, Liba stabbed him twice more just for good measure.
Blood dripping from her spear, Liba stalked over toward Dor. Utterly stunned, Dor tried to understand what just happened. Seeing his murderous companion approach, Dor’s shock was beaten by fear. He looked at the fading wall of fog and prepared to run.
Liba shouted. “I’m not going to kill you, coward; I need you.”
Surprised, Dor hesitated and found Liba’s spear at his throat. Staring into his eyes with undisguised disgust, Liba said. “If I come back alone, it will look too suspicious. You get to live and confirm my story to the village.”
Dor didn’t say anything, just looking at Vlatka’s body. Liba sighed and spat on the ground. “You can live and help me, or I can kill you. Just tell the villager what I tell you to, and I won’t say anything about what you did to Zorg.”
The cowardly goblin flinched at that, then after a moment’s thought, he nodded. “I will do it, just… why did you kill them?”
A slight grimace played across Liba’s face. She pointed her spear at the stretched-out goblin corpse. “That’s what's left of my brother. I killed him and buried his body here. I… I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I just wanted him gone.”
Pain and guilt showed in Liba, but she quickly quashed them with hate. Stamping the butt of her spear on the muddy ground, she said. “We will tell the village how the monster killed the Bogatyr, and Vlatka sacrificed herself to seal it away. We’ll say no one should come to this part of the bog and that we were the only survivors of the battle.”
Still stunned, Dor found himself nodding in agreement. Liba went over to Vlatka’s still-warm corpse and grabbed her staff. Tucking it under one arm, she remarked. “We’ll need a new Witch, and maybe the next one can use this staff as well as she did.”
That was too much, and Dor vomited. Somehow the act of robbing Vlatka’s body, even with ‘good’ intentions, was too horrible. Retching until only bile came up, Dor wiped his mouth and asked, “What about the gods? Surely they will punish us for this?”
Liba snorted. “The gods only care about strength, survival, and results. The Bogatyr and Vlatka saved the village, and then we saved ourselves. There is nothing more to this. Now come on, let's leave.”
They passed through the fading fog barrier easily and pressed in the general direction of the village. Once they got through the worst of the mist, Liba knew the deep bog well enough to guide them. As they walked, Liba made Dor practice the story they would tell. With every repetition of the lie, it became easier and easier. By the time the village walls came into sight, Dor could almost believe his own lies.
As they got closer, Dor frowned; no one was on watch. It seemed a bad idea, even with many of the village's best warriors gone. Reaching the gate, Dor stopped in his tracks; it’s bolt was smashed. Liba saw this, cursed, and ran forward. She pushed open the gate and screamed in horror.
It seemed not all of the Vadnuti had been destroyed. Three of the monsters pounced on Liba, she impaled one with her spear, but it didn’t seem to care. They knocked her to the ground, and Liba’s screams quickly died with her. Dor stayed long enough to see blood spray into the air, then ran. All that did was prevent him from seeing his death.
Undead hands slammed him into the muck and buried his face in the dark, damp earth. Dor struggled, but the Vadnuti kept him pressed into the mud. The monsters started to eat him even before he was smothered to death.
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It took Cole a day and a night to resurrect. Closely placed stab wounds were annoying, but his unnatural body eventually healed them. Awakening with the new dawn, Cole pulled himself up and looked over his surroundings. The fog was gone, and the bogland around the old willow seemed almost normal, except for all the corpses. Sighing, Cole went over to Vlatka and winced. The center of a marsh wasn’t the best place for a corpse. Rot had ruined her mortal remains.
Checking his equipment, Cole went over to Vlatka and freed her soul. He’d long gotten used to rotting corpses, but knowing the person made it difficult. Finding the other fallen goblins, Cole freed them as well and dragged their corpses to the disturbed ground Vlatka’s mud frog pulled itself from. Cole laid the corpses into the hole and started burying them, his halberd wasn’t a shovel, but its flat side worked well enough. Once that was done, he found the willow bough the Ur-Vadnuti had used and stripped it of bark and branches. With his knife, he carved the first letters of each dead Goblin’s name into the bough and, above that, the triple knot of the Goblin goddesses. Finally satisfied with his crude grave marker, Cole placed it at the head of the burial place.
With that done, Cole went over to the stretched goblin corpse. Touching it, he checked to see if any power was still connected to the corpse. A tiny fading wisp still inhabited the ruined body. With an effort, Cole crushed the wisp under his power and purified the corpse. After burying the remain in another hole, Cole looked over the scene and let out a tired sigh. He needed to return to the goblin village; he’d left his pack there and would need to retrieve Isabelle’s skull, at the very least. The secrecy spell on his pack should keep it safe for a little while; the only question was how he would sneak back into the village and retrieve it. Also, finding out why he’d been murdered and getting justice for Vlatka would be nice, but Cole didn’t know if that was possible.
Navigating the bog and returning to the village proved to be a bit of a hassle, but evidence of the group's original passage still existed. Guiding Cole to the marsh's edge and into sight of the goblin village. The moment he saw the village, he knew something was wrong. A deep cold tug in his chest said as much. Unsheathing his weapon, Cole let out a deep sigh and approached.
He found corpses, lots and lots of corpses, none of them intact. The village was filled with the dead, some of which happened to be moving. A handful of Vadnuti attacked Cole but were slow and easily destroyed. As the undead crumbled into peat, Cole set to work freeing the souls of everyone in the village. He took the time to peer into the memories of some of the freed souls, hoping to get some answers as they departed.
It was difficult to tell, but it seemed the Vadnuti had exploded out of the swamp in great numbers and attacked the village. They ignored the magical defenses and slaughtered the unprepared goblins. Looking at the gate and the etched marks on it, Cole grimaced. The wards on the village were Vlatka’s work, and they’d died with her.
Calling on a little of his power, Cole peered into the Aether, an uncertain thing he didn’t like doing, and examined the destroyed Vadnuti. He’d been around enough undead and magical constructs to guess what had happened. These bog ghouls had been created to help the Ur-Vadnuti fight him and the goblins. But when the source of the curse was destroyed, they followed their undead instincts. Attacking the easiest prey and slaughtering the village. Now with the curse broken and the Ur-Vadnuti destroyed, no more peat-bodied undead would come from the bog. This has been a last spiteful act by a dying horror, one that could have been prevented if Vlatka lived.
Going to the shack he’d been staying in, Cole retrieved his pack and set to work. He gathered up the corpses and prepared to light a pyre for them. As he worked, he found the corpse of Liba and, to his surprise, Dor. He’d not known what happened to the goblin watchman and assumed Liba killed him somewhere else in the bog. Shaking his head in morose confusion, Cole lit the pyre and let the village of Walek burn.
Leaving the village and its inhabitants to their final fate, Cole offered a prayer and trudged along the eastern road. His mind mulling over the facts and trying to make sense of everything. Sacrifices to fell gods once took place in the bog, creating an old and terrible curse. A curse that slumbered until someone awoke it, probably by mimicking the rituals that first created it. While the Ur-Vadnuti were the remains of whoever was ‘sacrificed’ in the bog starting all this.
The whole thing was a nasty intermingling of old power and new undead. Cole hadn’t said anything to the goblins, not wanting to frighten them, but during his time in the village, the number of Vadnuti increased as they took casualties. Each new victim was reborn in a feral body of shaped peat. Cole guessed that was why he’d been called here; given time, the curse on this bog would have only grown stronger and more dangerous.
Vlatka broke the connection between the curse and the undead. Cole then destroyed the Ur-Vadnuti, tearing open its spectral body with his axe. They ended the threat and saved untold lives. For their acts, both the witch and he earned a spear to the back. Cole didn’t know why Liba betrayed them, he could probably guess she was connected to the curse reawakening, but even that was just a supposition. So with few answers and a bitter weight in his stomach, Cole headed east, following the cold tug of a God’s will.