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The dull rhythm of his horse’s hooves had nearly lulled Aurennis to sleep. It had been a long day in the saddle; heavy rainstorms had greatly slowed him and his company’s return journey from Avatarita. Aurennis glanced upward momentarily to see the last rays of the sun disappear beneath the dense treetops. He knew full well that the moon would be high above them before they finally arrived at Imara. He adjusted his position in the saddle slightly, trying to find a more comfortable orientation. Try as he might, comfort was determined to elude him.
Aurennis took a deep breath of the cool night air, but something was not quite right. The air left a foul taste in his mouth, and he began to smell an all-to-familiar scent. He looked around at his men and saw that they smelled it to; a powerful necrotic odor had begun to fill the air. He motioned silently to his men to leave the road and enter into the forest. If there was a horde this close to Imara, they could not have it follow them out of the wilderness and back to civilization. He trusted the men in his company to make quick work of the horde.
As Aurennis rode deeper into the forest, the odor became stronger and stronger, almost suffocating. He could hear some of the horses let out nervous whinnies. Aurennis could hear moans echoing through the woods, growing louder with each passing moment. He knew they must be close. Soon enough he could make out a few shuffling figures in a small clearing straight ahead. He let out a sharp whistle to alert his men and they began to close in. The figures must have spotted them, as they slowly turned and moved towards the company. Aurennis heard an arrow whistle through the air, and one of the figures dropped. A few of his men dismounted and moved in to clear out the rest. As the undead in the clearing fell, Aurennis could see more filtering in from the surrounding forest. The men in the clearing began to retreat towards the edge of the forest, but Aurennis could see that a cluster of the undead was going to cut them off from the side. Aurennis signaled to two of his riders and they charged in.
Aurennis had almost reached the shambling cluster when he felt the ground suddenly give way beneath him. His horse let out a cry as it fell into a hole, dragging Aurennis with it. The other two riders tried to swerve around the growing sinkhole, but it was too late. Aurennis was thrown from his horse and heard something snap amidst the cacophony of clanging metal and yelling. He tried to stand, but a sharp pain shot through his right leg. Aurennis grimaced in pain as he fell back to the dirt. Through the haze of the pain he could see the other men in the pit had been thrown as well, one having been trapped under the body of his horse. The other had made it to his feet, wiping the mud from his eyes as he drew his sword. Aurennis had dropped his own sword as he had fallen into the pit, and now it was nowhere to be seen. He felt for his belt and drew a small dagger from its sheath. At that moment he noticed that a few of the undead had fallen into the pit as well, with more starting to appear at the edges of the sinkhole. The standing soldier worked his way between his fallen comrades and the undead, hacking away at them as they fell into the hole. Aurennis tried to stand again, but was again met with excruciating pain in his leg.
As the undead continued to pile into the pit, the soldier began to retreat towards the center. He was fighting valiantly, but he was greatly outnumbered. Distracted by combat, the soldier did not notice a smaller figure fall into the pit from the side. Aurennis tried to shout to warn him, but only a cough came out. The creature let out an ear-splitting hiss as it bowled into the soldier. Aurennis turned away and tried to cover his face as the creature began to glow. The pit was shaken by a deafening roar, then everything went black.
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Sulgrum sat outside of the healer’s hut in the dim light of dawn, nervously tapping on the hilt of the sword at his side. He had ridden to Imara as soon as he could, but the healers had not allowed anyone to come inside. A few other soldiers had gathered outside of the hut as well, anxiously waiting for any news. It had been nearly a full day since the wounded had arrived in Imara, yet there was no word on their status.
Sulgrum stood up as one of the healers emerged. The healer met Sulgrum’s gaze for a moment, and the healer beckoned to him.
“Is he alive?” Sulgrum asked bluntly. The healer sighed and began to look towards the other men.
“Is he alive?” Sulgrum asked again, putting a hand on the healer’s shoulder to regain his attention.
“He’s…” the healer paused and shook his head, “for now, yes.”
“How bad is it?”
The healer gave no answer, instead motioning for Sulgrum to enter the hut. As he entered he was met by the strong smell of rot. In the dim light of the hut, he could make out Aurennis’ body on one of the beds, though it was mostly covered by a bloodstained sheet.
“His right leg is mangled,” said the healer, finally answering the question, “if it is not removed, the rot will surely kill him. His right arm is also broken in several places. And he has severe bruising in too many places to count. I have given him a potion to ease the pain, but it can only help so much.”
“Will he live?” Sulgrum lifted the sheet to look at the wounds. Underneath he saw why no one had been allowed inside of the hut. He quickly put the sheet back down.
“He is barely alive. If I remove the leg now, I do not think he would survive it. He is too weak. If I wait much longer, the rot will spread too far to be stopped. I can try to keep his wounds clean and cut away the rot, but that will buy him little time. If he was a younger man he might have had the strength to hold on long enough, but at his age…” the healer paused, then slowly shook his head, “He is not long for this world.”
“Very well.” Sulgrum turned to depart, “I will let the Council know.”
A few of the men waiting outside glanced up at Sulgrum as he exited the hut, the solemn look on his face giving them the answer they sought. The village seemed eerily quiet as he made his way to the stables. Sulgrum was one of the few that had entered the hut, but in some way everyone knew what lay inside. He quickly saddled up his horse and trotted towards the portal. He took one last glance at the healer’s hut before disappearing into the portal.
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The fire from the funeral pyre had staved off the chill of the wind on the mountain, but few present cherished its warmth. Sulgrum stood beside the pyre, staring blankly into the flames. Many of Casadia’s leaders stood with him, each one stony-faced. None dared show emotion, though each knew the others felt it. Now was not a time for displays of weakness. A crowd had begun to gather behind them, as many had followed the procession from Duras to pay their respects.
Sulgrum looked through the flames Arkelai, the new Guardian of Casadia. The man had not taken his eyes off of the fire since it had been lit. Sulgrum could tell he was deep in thought. Many had believed that the council of elders favored Arkelai as Aurennis’ successor, but few had expected him to be thrust into duty so soon. Arkelai had risen to prominence as a Shield of Teleros, but it was his charisma and strategic mind that had fueled his rise through the ranks. His men were well known as fierce warriors, regularly venturing into the wilderness to fight hordes far from civilization. Sulgrum knew that the veteran commanders in Torvea could respect a man like that.
Sulgrum’s eyes returned to the fire. The flames danced and flickered, and for a moment he thought he saw the shape of a dragon rise from the pyre and ascend to the night sky. Though he knew it to be a trick of the eyes, Sulgrum allowed himself a somber smile. Perhaps he was a dragon after all.
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Guardian of Casadia
Master of the Slayers Guild
Minister of Hermertian History
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