Deus Necros

The night was longer than it had any right to be.

The inside of the carriage had grown quiet again, but not restful. Not truly. The tremor from the earlier strike still lingered in the walls, in the groaning wood and the hairline cracks running down the gilded frames of the windows. Whatever runes had kept the interior stable now pulsed erratically, flickering in the corners like nervous thoughts. Each bounce of the wheels sent a muted shudder through the planks beneath their feet.

Gorak hadn’t moved from his crouch, one hand still pressed against the side as if expecting the walls to split open again. Melisande was still curled around Redd’s broken form, her cloak pulled over both their bodies like a failed shield. Timur sat low across from them, legs drawn up, arms wrapped around his sheathed blade. He didn’t sleep. None of them did.

Celine hadn’t changed positions either. She remained seated near the door, back straight, eyes vacant. Though vacant was the wrong word. Her gaze drifted never focused, but never unseeing. Like something half-recalled from the edge of a dream.

Ludwig watched her in intervals. The rest of the time, his eyes tracked the lines of the ward etched into the floor beneath their boots.

Then he felt it a stir. A flicker just outside his vision.

Thomas shimmered into clarity beside him, though only Ludwig and the Knight King would ever notice. The soul-laced shimmer hovered a few inches above the floorboards, spinning slowly like caught smoke.

“They’re moving,” Thomas said. No urgency. Just observation.

Ludwig didn’t respond at first. He let the words hang.

“How many?”

“More than before,” Thomas replied. “Sixteen now. Mostly the small ones. The big one hasn’t moved yet.”

Robin’s voice filtered down through the ceiling with perfect clarity, no more than a quiet breath. “They’re gathering to the east.”

He didn’t shout. He didn’t raise his tone. But they all heard it.

Timur’s eyes shifted. “How far?”

“Close enough,” came the answer. “Too close, if I’m being honest.”

Melisande shifted slightly. “We’re still moving, right? They’re not circling us?”

“They are,” Robin replied. “They’re not following the path. They’re surrounding it.”

Gorak looked toward the window, where the glow of starlight barely filtered through the veil of fog crawling against the glass.

“Beasts don’t move like this,” he said.

“No,” Ludwig said quietly, “they don’t. Robin can you outrun them?”

“No can do, some of them are already at the other end of the path, we have to get down and make a stand…”

Ludwig cursed under his breath, “What the hell is going on here, why are they after us?”

Ludwig’s sight turned to Redd, but the unconscious man wasn’t about to give them any answers anytime soon.

Thomas pulsed once beside him. The air chilled slightly.

“There’s a man,” Thomas said.

Ludwig’s gaze narrowed.

“Where?” he replied via thought.

“Far,” the ghost answered, drifting closer to the glass without touching it. “I didn’t notice him at first. He’s standing near the tree line. Southeast ridge. His posture is strange. He isn’t hiding. He isn’t armed. Strange clothes too, and wearing a jester’s mask.”

Ludwig exhaled slowly. “Not a scout.”

“No,” Thomas confirmed. “He has a flute.”

“For crying out loud… really a Pied Piper…how cliché can this get…”

The word made the Knight King stir faintly on Ludwig’s shoulder. The armored weight shifted like a whisper of wind across cold metal. “A fitting name for such a strange entity,” the Knight said.

“He’s using the pipe too,” Thomas added. “But no sound.”

Ludwig frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I see the air move when he blows. Like heat. Like distortion. But no one hears it. Not even the beastlings.”

“And yet…”

“They react to it,” Thomas said. “Each time. Their harnesses steam when he plays.”

Steam.

That caught Ludwig’s attention.

He turned slowly toward the window, though he could see nothing through the fog beyond the trail.

“They’re augmented,” Timur said. “Enhanced behavior. Boosted senses. Bound to the signal. I’ve heard rumors of such magical metallurgy, but that’s the domain of Dwarves. And we’re not anywhere near any dwarven settlement.”

The ghost hovered closer. “They don’t act like a pack. They act like an army.”

The Knight king spoke as he raised his head slightly. “A conductor…”

Robin’s voice returned, this time tinged with something heavier. “They’ve stopped moving.”

Everyone inside froze.

Gorak adjusted his posture. Melisande reached into her bag and removed a small flask, uncorking it without sound and downing the liquid with one smooth motion. Even Celine blinked now, once, and her gaze began to sharpen.

The world outside had gone still.

Something massive began moving, tearing apart the trees.

The loud sound was too obvious in the quiet night.

“There goes their trail hiding trait…” Timur said.

“There is someone orchestrating their moves… A pied piper, at the east,” Ludwig said.

“I see him, How did you notice him from inside the carriage?” Robin said.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ludwig said “Just tell me, how many bear owls do you see?”

Robin’s voice was clipped now. Focused.

“Fourteen. Maybe more behind. Small. Fast. Long limbs. Black fur.”

He paused.

“Two more. Heavier. Slower gait. Brown.”

“And the last?” Ludwig asked.

“Can’t see him yet… which is creeping me out some more, for something that big and as white as is to be invisible…”

Gorak’s voice was low. “The White ones are always like that.” He said as he picked up his war axe, and pushed the door open. “Time for blood.”

Ludwig nodded.

Thomas returned to his shoulder. “They’ll be here very soon…”

“Then we don’t wait,” Ludwig said.

Timur drew one of his blades halfway free, then slid it back with a hiss of metal against wood. “Everyone ready?”

“No,” Melisande muttered, tightening the bandages around Redd’s midsection. “But when are we ever?”

Celine stood without a word.

Ludwig’s hand found Oathcarver.

Then, from deep within the forest, a shriek echoed not quite beast, not quite birdand the carriage’s walls shivered.

The hunt had begun.

The group got out of the carriage and encircled it, Melisande and Redd were the only two still inside, unbeknownst to the group besides Ludwig and his two spirits, the Skinwalker was still hugging Redd tightly with both hands on his chest as if she was warding off death itself.

Gorak stood closest to the carriage, unmoved, arms crossed, his eyes never once drifting from the dark treeline. His breathing was shallow and steady.

“We need some fire…” Timur said.

“It’ll draw attention, no?” Ludwig said.

“No, Davon, attention that’s something we already drew, now we need the light so we can fight better.”

Robin who was at the driver seat suddenly jumped up on the roof of the carriage and threw in a bunch of broken wood and planks.

“Davon, get some of that fire magic ready,” he said.

“I’ll do you one better,” Ludwig said as he pointed his palm at a nearby bush, “Fireball”.

The bush lit up and gave them some light, while Ludwig shot several fireballs at nearby isolated brushes or trees creating a better visual field around them.

The camp they made was hasty, if it could be called that, with the carriage being pulled to a natural outcropping of stone near them just off the road.

With this, their backs should be protected for the most part as the incoming Bearowl were closing in, their howls echoed louder and louder with each passing moment.

Celine, quite naturally walked out of the carriage and simply stood there, her jerky long since been devoured. And now she simply stared into the dark. Not at anything in particular. Not visibly worried or careful, but there was an occasional twitch of her fingers. As if testing if they still harbored a strength long since used.

“Ludwig,” Thomas said.

Ludwig mentally asked, “What is it?”

“The pide piper as you called him, he’s approaching and he seems to be blowing his flute stronger now.”

“Which direction?”

“Right there, east,” Thomas said, “Under the massive oak tree.”

Ludwig located the tree in the distance, it was pretty far away, but reachable, “Let’s not be the defendant fore once.”

Ludwig raised his hand, a heavy looking fireball squirmed and twirled right above his palm, he then crushed it with his fingers, forcing it to change form into a long infernal spear.

“You started this, so eat dirt!” Ludwig howled as he threw the spear with the power of roaring thunder.

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