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Derek smiled as he looked out over the green fields ahead of him. The tall human sat upon his steed, Aurus and fingered the reigns idly as he thought of his contract. The reward was low, a lot lower than what he'd usually even consider, but the target was worth it.

Slavers.

And Cardoan Slavers at that, the worst type. They'd purchased an extra wagon in town, they knew they'd have to transport children. Cardoan's always had children.

There was a rustling sound and Grern was beside him.“I think I've found them, lots of mixed tracks with a few wagons and a pair of chariots, plus drag marks like from loose chains. Maybe 2 hours old.” None of his company had complained about the pay, none of them had any love of Slavers. Grern still had the scar on his cheek where he'd carved his slave brand out of his flesh. The Gnoll's fur bristled in anticipation and he loosened his Kukris in their sheaths.

“Good, stay on them, they can't move slaves that fast, but it'll likely be after dark before we can catch up to them with these wagons. They'll probably have made camp by the time we get there, find me that camp and we'll hit them there.” The Gnoll nodded and made to disappear back into the underbrush. “Grern.” The Gnoll paused and looked back. “Was there any sign of outriders?” The tracker shook his head. “Then take Marissa, if she's serious about taking up rangering she'll need the practice, and her nose is keener than yours for some things.”

The Gnoll's fur bristled again, this time for a different reason. “Sir, I-” Derek cut him off.

“Nothing about distractions, you may have joined my company for her, but if you can't work beside her...” The man trailed off. Grern's feelings for the half-elf were no secret, Marissa seemed to be the only one who didn't know, but Derek also knew that the Gnoll loved his work, and wouldn't give it up for some infatuation that may never be reciprocated. As he'd expected the Gnoll nodded and vanished into the foliage.

***

Serren picked himself up gingerly from the floor of the wagon. His eyebrows were singed and there was a faint smell of burned gnome, but overall he seemed to be in decent shape. Not like the last time, he'd had to pay a druid to regrow his nose after that one. Burstberries and Gullweed were on his permanent 'do-not-mix' list.

Derek pulled open the door on the side of the wagon, letting a large puff of greenish-purple smoke escape. “Damn it to the Frozen Plains Serren, what have I told you about working in the wagon while we're on a mission?!”

The gnome dismissed his rebuke with a wave. “You told me not to, but this latest couldn't wait, I found some Tyfoil by the roadside. I've been saving some Resdine for almost 6 months, it wouldn't have been useful for much longer.”

Derek looked like he was about to go off the handle again when the door on the other side of the wagon opened. The spongy green face which looked through the door on that side was grotesque, yet somehow comforting. “Don't be harsh. What's Tyfoil and Resdine make?”

The gnome looked over at the troll, a wide grin spreading across his face. He held up a small vial glowing the same color as the smoke which had nearly all cleared. “Glad you asked Jurs, nice to see some people still appreciate my pursuits. Just the two of them? Nothing. But with a couple other ingredients, Tyfoil and Resdine makes devilnight.”

Derek's jaw dropped. “Devilnight!?! You've made devilnight!! Are you insane?!! If anyone caught us with that-”

This time Derek got cut off. “They'd confiscate it and throw us all in prison. Fortunately we won't have it for much longer. See, most people don't know about it, but Devilnight has one use other than as a narcotic.” He paused for dramatic impact but the troll ruined it.

“Dissolves metal, doesn't hurt living matter.” The gnome grumbled something about know-it-all monks before Derek spoke up again.

“What good does that do us?”

The gnome rolled his eyes. Derek was an excellent warrior, and mighty good at finding their little mercenary band contracts, but he'd never been very smart. “Because, slave shackles are made of steel, and...” He watched as Derek's brain slowly ground out the answer they needed.

“Slaves aren't, slaves are living matter.” The gnome nodded sagely, but further conversation was cut off by a feral howl coming from the woods. “Marissa and Grern!” The caravan came alive as mounts and warriors rushed into the woods towards the howl. “By the dead gods, MOVE!”

***

Marissa stood over the fallen Gnoll. She had broken her bow over one of the warrior's faces and stood now with one of Grern's Kukri's in her hand. She knew how to use it, but wasn't nearly as good with it as the Gnoll. Despite the circling warriors on horseback she drew some comfort from the sound of Grern's labored breathing. He wasn't dead yet, if she could hold  these bastards at bay long enough for the rest of the company to arrive...

With a shout two of the warriors charged in, their black steeds snorting angrily. With a dropping spin she hamstringed one of the horses, its rider tumbling over the beast's head as it stumbled and fell. The other man's saber cut through her padded armor to draw blood. With a yowl of pain she felt the familiar creep of darkness trying to overcome her. She fought it off, refusing to let it overtake her. If it was to come out, she'd be in charge of when and where. She blocked the second slash by the warrior and saw a third start to move towards her out of the corner of her eye. She took the opening she saw anyways, dropping the blade to cut through the thin cloth of the man's boot. His turn to cry out as his friend drove her to her knees with a blow from a mace or club. The wounded man spoke.

“You little whore. You'll be wearing Cardoan' shackled by nightfall for that!” He kicked her in the face sending her sprawling into the tall grass.

Memories of her time as a slave dancer for the Hy'irs in the south rushed through her mind, and the darkness again edged to the verge of her conscious mind. “No,” She said it quietly, not a denial, not a plea, a statement of fact, “I don't think I will.”

And she let the darkness take over.

***

Derek drew Aurus above the wounded Gnoll. Marissa was kneeling over him, her hands, face, and clothing were covered in blood, as was the rest of the clearing. Several piles could be identified as the remains of creatures. Derek could only assume the smaller piles were men, the larger their mounts.

“One of them got away.” The girl's voice shook as she spoke, but other than that she seemed remarkably steady for a sixteen year old drenched in blood. She pointed into the growing twilight. “That way. I... It wanted to go after him, but I knew I had to stay with Grern, I took control back. It was easier this time.” Gayla, the company's cleric, put a hand on the young girl's shoulder then bent down to tend to Grern. Derek motioned to Jurs and the Troll vanished in the direction the girl had pointed, moving rapidly and near soundlessly through the underbrush. “It was my fault... all my fault. They wouldn't have been able to follow him, they must have tracked me.”

Serren moved up beside her, wiping some of the gore from her face as he put his small arm around her shoulder. “Shush, none of that now.” With a wave of his hand a ghostly blue glow appeared on the woman's boots, a similar glow appeared a few moments later on Grern's paws, it spread across the clearing and then disappeared into the gloom in two parallel sets of tracks. “Magical wards. Neither of you stood any chance of finding them, if you hadn't been here they would have just killed him.” The girl's brow furrowed a bit, but she smiled at the Gnome anyways. “Come on, you've had a tough day, lets get you and our friend the hound dog back to the Caravan and see what comes next, hmm?” The girl nodded and Serren led her into the twilight.

***

Derek sat in a tight circle with the fellow members of his mercenary company. Jurs hadn't returned yet, but Derek wasn't worried, the troll was more than capable of taking care of himself.

“Alright boys, they've taken some of our blood, so now we have more of a reason to take some of theirs.” A rustle ran through the assembled warriors. Corunth, a dwarf from the northern mountains, commented on exactly how necessary that was with slavers. “According to what Marissa brought us they're set up in regular Cardoan fashion, so we have a decent idea of what we're getting into, though it seems they have a caster of some type amongst them.” Less worry than Derek expected at that comment, not terribly surprising though, Cardoa was hardly unknown for its arcane heritage.

“What about the guards? They probably know we're coming.” Veren, an Elf archer made the point.

“Probably, we'll have to plan for it. Hopefully Jurs caught up to the last of them or they'll dismiss it as a local Gnoll tribe.”

There was barely a whisper of warning before the voice came from behind him. “Couldn't catch him, lead too big, even on wounded horse. Avoided ward, guards doubling at posts.” Derek started at the sound. Even after years traveling with the Troll it always unnerved him how easily the monstrously large creature could move about so near to invisible. He regained his composure and nodded at the new info.

“Alright, they're probably just taking precautions, we'll have to do likewise. Veren, break out the crossbows,  we'll take a direct strike prefaced by crossbow barrage. The slaves are probably corralled in the middle of the camp, correct?” Jurs shook his head, his dangling nose swaying with the action.

“Unusual slavers, slaves in wagons...” he paused uncomfortably, “Looks like all children from edge of camp.” Derek scowled, that was unpleasant, but the wagons were a boon, they could use the crossbows with a much smaller likelihood of hitting any slaves.

“Alright, that makes it that much easier,” a tiny figure slipped into the light from the small campfire. “Serren, I doubt Grern's up for anything heroic, but how's Marrissa?” The gnome frowned before answering.

“She wants to come along, she's awfully upset about Grern though, I'm worry it might weaken her restraint at some inopportune moment.”

“Hmm, no, she's a big girl, if she wants to come along we'll just have to trust her to be able to keep herself under control. Alright, anything else?”

Kail, the company's cook, tailor, and general den mother raised her hand. “Tabards? Are we going in bare steel or should we show some color?”

Derek considered it for a moment. “No sense having them think us highway thugs. Let's see, Greyhills hired us, but we must be closer to Brunjun now, Varen?”

The elf thought for a moment. “Trepland, actually, just over that hill. I reckon we're, maybe a day's ride from Daggerwatch.” Derek nodded.

“Sounds good, they've never been big fans of the Cardoan's anyways, we'll go in under Trepland colors, then. That all?” No one raised any more questions. “Alright then, get your gear and saddle up, we move within the hour.”

***

The young guardsman stood uneasily at his post. The marshal had order the guard doubled because of the obvious gnoll presence in the area.

But he'd never seen them burn a horse's corpse after it died from a gnoll's bite.

His partner vanished into the darkness mumbling about taking a piss, leaving the young man to contemplate the odd questions on his own. He never came to a conclusion, unfortunately. A few minutes later he heard a sound like a hammer hitting a straw mattress. He coughed once as he looked down at the crossbow bolt in his chest, then collapsed.

***

Derek charged Aurus into battle with a fury in his eyes. Beside him Jurs kept pace on foot as they barged into the chaos their own bolts had created. Derek's mercenaries weren't numerous, there was about 50 of them, total. But they were well trained with considerable experience, and most of the guards were falling easily before their blades.

Aurus pulled up sharply as a wall of metal and wood spikes presented itself before him. Jurs kept moving. Despite his mass he seemed to pass between the spears, those he did hit were ignored like so many insect bites. Soon he had a passage cleared for the horse and Derek spurred Aurus back into motion.

To his right he saw Marrissa fall from her horse, the straps of her saddle seemingly cut. Derek made to help her, but he heard the same unearthly howl as before and knew she was far from being out yet. He instead charged into a milling group of guards, slashing and cutting down into them as he moved. He heard a cry from towards the center of the camp. A voice too shrill to be a soldier, no man would have come to command troops on the strength of that voice. The words it cried shook Derek to the bone.

“The wagons! Burn the slave wagons! Don't let them get the children!” Derek didn't even pause to shout orders, he could see his men's assault double in ferocity as they realized what that order meant. Even as he leaped into and over another guardsman he saw the orange glow of fire growing towards the center of the camp.

***

Gendarain ran to the next wagon in a panic, his staff in one hand, a torch in the other. These meddlers may overcome the guards, but they would be denied their prize. If Cardoa could not have the power within these wagons, then no Trepland wretches would take it from them.

In the fury of the battle he never even heard the horseman. With a sweep of his sword the torch went flying from Gendarain's hand, extinguishing as it struck the muddy earth. He turned to face the next blow of the warrior, the man's blow stuck his staff, and with a word of power  the wooden weapon sprung to life, it's magical energy nearly sending the man flying from his saddle.

The wizard turned, and with a wave of his hand sent a bolt of flame into the side of the final wagon. He laughed maniacally as he turned to once again face the mounted swordsman. The words of the warrior that had instructed him in basic combat before the expedition came back to his mind.

“In battle, you never face one opponent.”

Too late he felt the claws dig into his shoulder and lower back, pain shooting through his body. The face which craned around to look at him was horrendous. Blood red eyes peered out from beneath sleek gray and black fur, stained with blood around the vicious canines glittering in the firelight. The outrider hadn't been mad, there was indeed a werewolf in the woods.

Gendarain wasn't completely unprepared however. He swung his staff at the beast with what force he could muster, and while the fine silver tracery along its length normally served only as decoration, against the lycanthrope it proved painfully useful, opening a deep gash across it's cheek and loosing its death grip on his back.

A moment later even that was for naught. “In battle, you never face one opponent.” The sword stabbed into his gut at about the same time that the troll's claws tore into his face.

***

With the spellcaster neutralized Derek raced towards the burning wagons. Every pitiful cry from within the inferno was like a poison dart in his very being. Jurs, approached to within a few feet of the wagons, but instinct proved a powerful foe, and he couldn't bring himself to get closer. Corunth had extracted himself form the main melee of the assault and was at the next wagon, assaulting the lock with his warhammer. Derek followed suit, likely notching his sword blade horribly but the cost of his sword was insignificant next to the children inside the wagons.

With a feral growl Marrissa came up beside him, still in her halfbreed form. With a howl of rage she struck, not the lock, but the wall of the wagon. The wood, weakened by the fire gave way easily to her assault, and Corunth and others followed suit with the other wagons.

Dozens of children poured from the wagons, may of them already on fire. Derek saw many forms within the inferno that would never emerge. The battle proper was over and the company clustered around the wagons, frantically trying to put out the children. One young boy, perhaps 12, burst forth from the wagon nearest to Derek, completely engulfed in flame the boy was charging blindly into the darkness, driven by pain and terror. Derek saw a young girl in his way, she wasn't moving, wasn't phased. She sat in the mud in her rags, apparently oblivious to the horrors around her. Derek dashed across the churned earth and snatched the girl up, carrying her out of the path of the immolated boy.

The girl blinked and looked up at him from his arms. She was 8, perhaps 9, with pale skin and big eyes of a shade of blue so odd it looked almost violet. Her hair was was a deep red bordering on brown and was pulled back into a simple braid, though much of it had come loose and seemed to hang in the air around her face.

Derek made to put the girl down but she grabbed hold of his chest with all her strength. He struggled for a moment, and she squirmed around onto his back, holding on as though her very life depended on it. He didn't have time to remove her, and she was unusually strong for her age. He left her where she hung from his back, grabbing a piece of fabric from a nearby tent and racing towards the next burning child.

***

They'd managed to save 43 of the children in all, though they'd laid  nearly twice that to rest. That thought added extra force to Derek's blow as he struck the Cardoan officer. “Why did you... people try to kill those children? Why were they so important that you couldn't even let them get rescued.” The man stared ahead, steely eyed and unresponsive. Derek threw his hands up in surrender. “Fine, you won't tell me I've got someone you might find easier to talk to. JURS!” The Cardoan's eyes widened for a moment as the Troll slipped into the tent, but he forced himself to regain his composer and remain silent. “Maybe Jurs here can convince you to help us out.” Derek stormed out of the tent as the troll began to crack his knuckles.

The young girl who'd attached herself to him the night before was still in his tent when he got there. The plate of food he'd left for her was empty, and she looked up at him as he entered, but gave little sign other than that. Derek sighed and sat down across from her on the second cot.

“What about you? You feel like talking to me this morning?” The girl just stared back, she hadn't uttered a sound since he'd saved her from the rampaging boy. The company's healer had examined her and declared her in good health, if a bit poorly fed. There was no physical reason why she wasn't  talking. Derek sighed again. “How about your name? You must have a name. Mine's Derek Aubermaine. How about you?” The girl just starred back, impassive. Jurs' head stuck in through the tent flap. She looked over at him, appearing fascinated more than anything.

“Officer doesn't know, or trained against Dorein torture.” The Dorein weren't exactly known for their hospitality towards prisoners. Their interrogators had been known to break full grown dragons, given time. “Also, never hold sword again. Seemed upset. Told him take up begging.” Derek nodded  and the Troll retreated, the girl's attention returned to him.

“What about you? I don't suppose they told you why they were so desperate to keep anyone else from getting you, hmm?” She starred blankly at him.

Derrek sighed.

***

Derek stuck the torch in the ground and made sure the flame wasn't too close to the rope, then he climbed up onto Aurus. “There, That should burn through the rope in a few hours. When you see it about to go I'd suggest you all hold your breath, unless you'd like to spend a few hours dancing with each other and eating grass before you get yourselves rescued.” The captured soldiers looked up at the basin of devilnight being held above their heads by the rope.

Derek turned to ride away when one of them spoke up. “What happens if the torch goes out?”

Derek looked back at him as he rode. “Start shouting, and hope some travelers hear you before the wildcats do.”

He turned back around and spurred Aurus to catch up to the rest of the caravan. They would return the children to their homes, collect their payment, and put this mess behind them.

He pulled up beside the wagons and looked at the children inside. The young girl nearly launched herself at him. He caught her and swung her into the saddle in front of him. She held tightly onto his arms as they rode. He spoke soothingly to her for several hours as they rode through the day and into the twilight. “Still don't feel like talking, do you?” She just starred up at him. “Alright, but I'm going to need something to call you. I'm starting to feel like I'm talking to Aurus. How about Violet, for your eyes?”

The girl looked up at him for a minute, then rested her head on his breastplate. “It's Lasha.” Derek looked down at her, astonished by the almost musical tone of her voice. “My name's Lasha Nightwind.”

Derek smiled. “Well, Lasha, soon we'll have you home to your parents and you can talk as much as you want.”

The girl sobbed softly. “No, my parents are dead, all of our parents are. The bad men killed them before they took us.” Derek looked down at her, mortified. He only had a moment to process the information before he heard Jurs' harsh whisper from behind him warning of riders behind them. The Caravan disappeared into the brush along the side of the road quickly enough to stir a moment of pride in Derek. Even the wagons had been concealed quickly by Serren's magic.

The riders wore royal blue cloaks over green and gold hauberks, Cardoan colors. They rode past at a  quick clip, and Derek was about to order the group back onto the road when Jurs hand came down on his arm. The troll shook his head and pointed to his ear. Derek paused a moment and heard the sound of hooves approaching once more from the opposite direction. The Cardoans came to a stop in the middle of the road directly between the two halves of the mercenaries. Now that they were stopped Derek could count them better, 24 warriors, plus a commander in scale mail. “Show yourselves! We know you're out there. Just give us back the children and you'll be able to walk home.” Derek snorted quietly and signaled to Jurs, who vanished into the trees.

“I commend your tracking skills, Cardoan. Does your skill with a blade match? Because you'll need it if you plan to take these children back.”

He thought he saw the commander smirk, and a number of the soldiers drew their weapons. All the soldiers at least loosed them in their scabbards. “Spoken with all the bravado of a condemned servant. But I have no need of a blade to deal with the likes of you.” The Cardoan lifted his hand and a half dozen bolts of light streamed from it. Derek's eyes went wide and he grabbed Lasha, shielding her with his body. Lasha screamed, followed a split second later as two arrows went through the wizard's raised arm. Derek braced himself for the assault from the magical projectiles. But nothing happened. The soldiers were embroiled in battle, triggered by Grern and Marrissa's arrows and led by Jurs. Derek rode over to one of the wagons and passed Lasha up to Serren then drew his sword and rode into the melee.

***

Derek carefully sharpened his blade as he sat near the campfire. The Cardoans had fought well, their soldiers proper always did. It had taken them most of an hour to finish them off. The sun was almost fully set and they decided to make camp. Moving well off the road and carefully removing all sign of their own travel. Serren came and sat beside him. “Derek, what did those magic missiles hit?”

The warrior looked quizzically at the gnome. “I don't know, not me, that's all that matters. Maybe his aim was off because of the brush.”

Serren shook his head. “No, magic missiles like that don't miss. That's not a statement of the skill of people using it, any first year apprentice can, it's a mechanic of the spell. You can't cast it if you don't know where your target is, and it tracks its target unerringly. There's only a handful of techniques for stopping one, and most of those involve letting it hit you, but having another spell or an item that will absorb its energy, rather than letting it hurt you. You didn't pick up any new brooches in town, did you?”

Derek shook his head slowly as he looked down at the gleam of his blade in the firelight. “I didn't see anything, I saw him fire them, I turned away, protecting Lasha. She screamed and... nothing happened. The missiles never hit me.” Derek looked over at the young girl sleeping in his bedroll. She'd refused to sleep in the wagon with the other children, the attack had really frightened her. “You don't suppose she...” Serren just shrugged.

“There's something odd about these kids, the Cardoans are unusually intent on getting them back. But I don't know how she'd stop a magic missile.” He frowned. “Well, I suppose it doesn't matter much, this time tomorrow we'll be back in Greyhills spending our reward and they won't be our problem anymore.” The Gnome stood and headed into the darkness.

Derek frowned and looked over at Lasha again. “Yeah, not our problem...”

***

The priest smiled broadly as he handed Derek the bag of gold with his free hand. He held a 4 year old with the other, careful not to drop him.“Oh, may the Reborn Gods bless you and your company. I can only imagine the horrible things the Cardoans would have done if they'd managed to get the children back to their borders. The monsters, killing so many of the children just out of spite.” Derek rubbed his neck and held up the gold in thanks before looking back at where his men were still helping the last of the children out of the wagons.

“Yeah, it... wasn't pleasant. Tell me, cleric, what is going to happen to the children? I mean, what are you going to do with them?”

The priest seemed surprised. “We'll return them to their parents, of course. They've all been terribly worried about the children.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “But, cleric, Lasha, uh... one of the children, told me that the Cardoans killed all their parents when they kidnapped them. She said she'd watched her mother get stabbed through the throat just before they took her.”

The priest again seemed surprised. “Well, that's simply not possible, perhaps an illusion of some sort, to make the children less resistant. I've been in daily contact with all the parents since this terrible ordeal started. Why, here comes some of them now.” Derek looked and a dozen adults were approaching the temple gate quickly. Some of the children seemed to know them, though none of them were rushing over.

One woman looked towards Derek and shifted course slightly to walk towards him. “Lasha! Lasha my darling, I'm so glad to see you, come give mommy a hug.”

Lasha was standing beside Derek, she slipped behind his leg, an evil look on her face. “You're not mommy, mommy's dead. You're just a monster.” The woman made a stern face and shook her finger at the girl. Derek caught Serren's eye and made a few subtle hand signals. Serren nodded and dug into a pouch on his hip.

“Don't be a silly girl, and calling me a monster? I'll have to give you a good paddling when we get home young lady.” Lasha held more tightly to Derek's hand. He watched as the other 'parents' spread out amongst the children, looking for their own. Off to the side Serren uttered a word of power and waved his hand in the air. The parents seemed to shimmer, their forms becoming insubstantial and then dissolving altogether.

The woman facing Derrek now was a mockery of what had been there a moment before. Her hair was ragged and unkempt, blood stained her blouse and a large knife wound could be seen on the side of her neck. Her eyes were a sightless milky white and her skin was a sickly gray-green. The other adults had changed likewise.

But for a sharp intake of air from behind him and the slight sway of the monstrous humanoids Derek would have sworn time had stopped in the temple plaza. The moment seemed to stretch to infinity before someone stated the obvious. “Zombies.” Jurs didn't shout it, it was his typical manner of speech, the rhythm wasn't even interrupted as he scooped up the nearest of the beasts, holding its neck in his massive powerful hand and squeezing.

The creature that had been Lasha's mother looked down at her hands then sneered at Derek. “Well, aren't we so witty, dispelling our illusions? It doesn't matter, there are hundreds of us, we'll take the children back, and then they'll go to their proper destiny in Cardoa.” She lurched forward and Derek drew his sword. The old priest stepped up beside him, holy symbol at the ready, and Lasha screamed.

The woman seemed to wilt, but Derek couldn't be sure, a moment later his sword was buried in the creature's forehead an a blast of holy energy burned into her chest. She fell to the ground, the unholy energies which had driven her having fled. All around the temple grounds similar scenes were played out. Jurs separated his captured zombie's head from its shoulders without ever raising his other hand, the warriors of the mercenary company, battle hardened, had recovered quickly enough and laid into the creatures with steel and wood. One of the acolytes destroyed a zombie with what looked like a hammer made of pure light. All in all it was over in a matter of moments.

The Priest started shouting. “The other parents, by the Dead Gods, send a messenger bird to the barracks! Quickly, bar the gates, this is where they'll be coming if they're after the children. Get the children into the temple. They'll be safer there!” The courtyard burst into activity, as the gates swung shut Derek glimpsed several doors further down the street burst open and numerous “humans” come charging out, wielding whatever weaponry they'd managed to find. They angled towards the temple but would have to contend with the temple walls now. Warriors and clerics were scooping up as many children as they could and were heading for the temple doors. He grabbed Lasha in one arm, his sword still held in the other,  and made for the temple. He glimpsed Jurs, two children in each arm and at least three hanging onto the short grass-like hair on his back. Serren and Marrissa were herding children as fast as they could when the first sounds of hacking at the gates began.

They managed to get everyone into the temple and seal those doors. The warriors stayed in the front hall as acolytes began to herd the children deeper into the temple. The priest walked up beside Derek and knelt before the altar. The Great Cycle hung impassively above the two men, the Dead Gods resting on the bottom of the wheel, the Reborn Gods standing triumphantly at it's peak, all looking to the hub where the Archangel Jarra held the world on her lap and shielded mortals from the pure power of the gods.

“I don't understand how I could have been such a fool. Almost a week. Every day some of them would come to me. The day after the children were taken they all came to me, nearly three hundred of them in the temple courtyard, and still I didn't see them for what they were.” He bowed his head as if asking forgiveness.

“Good magic, no smell.” Both men jumped at the sound of the Troll's voice. Derek doubted the priest would be assuaged by the fact that Jurs hadn't been able to smell the zombies.

Serren walked up beside the troll. “He's right, I think there must be a Cardoan wizard in the city somewhere. That was a powerful illusion, not the type of thing you can make last several days without some type of maintenance, and I didn't see any mystical items on them that would have created that illusion.”

Derek sighed. He'd done that much too often the past few days. “Well, it won't be the first spellcaster we've dealt with saving these children. The men?” he looked up at Jurs, the Troll nodded.

“Ready. Got most of the supplies off the wagons coming in. Could last three days.”

The priest stood up. “I don't think it'll be nearly that long, my over sized friend. The paladins from the city barracks will be mobilizing as we speak, and we have a few here in the temple, plus myself and my acolytes. Even if there are over two hundred of them and a wizard, I don't imagine we'll even need your rations for dinner.”

Grern dropped in from the balcony above the altar, landing only a few feet from the startled cleric. “I wouldn't bet on that holyman.” Derek looked at him. “If there's two hundred odd of them, I'd say they're all accounted for out there. There's about fifty of them still working at hacking through the temple gates, the rest turned back. They're going house to house, and Marrissa says she can see something... dark passing from house to house further away from us.” The priest's eyes went wide. More experienced with undead he made the connection before the others.

“They're killing the citizens. And that 'dark' is going to be your wizard. Made to order reinforcements.”

Derek gulped, worry creasing his face. “Those doors are the only way in or out of this building, right?”

The priest nodded. “There used to be connections to a set of catacombs under the city, but they'd become unstable and we ordered all passages into them fully sealed almost 20 years ago.”

Derek breathed a small sigh of relief. “Alright, I suppose we'll make our stand here then, if they get through. How long should your paladin friends take?”

The priest shrugged and shook his head. “If they're making more zombies they'll likely be used to slow the garrison's advance. I'll send them word of what's happening, they'll mobilize the regular militia to join them. If you'll excuse me.” The priest hustled out of a rear exit, whispering orders to one of the acolytes as he went.

***

Marrissa loosed another arrow and watched as another of the zombies fell. The undead beasts had managed to cut their way through the massive wooden doors that had bounded the temple grounds and were working on the doors to the temple proper. Luckily Greyhill still had one of the old style temples, with large flat stone walls, no massive stained glass windows so prevalent in temples built more recently. The defenders with bows had made their way out onto the temple roof and had turned the courtyard into a killing field, or a re-killing field, she wasn't quite sure.

She and Grern were in the bell tower, as the best archers it was only sensible to give them the most advantageous spot. It also gave them an unparalleled view of the city, Marrissa's lycathropic eyes were sharper than any regular mortal's and while she hadn't caught sight of the dark figure that seemed to be the source of these zombies, she could see where the city militia was engaging another force of zombies well north of the temple. The Guard had managed to get most of the gates between districts of the city closed, and the zombies didn't seem terribly interested in breaching those. She'd been told there were only about fifteen hundred people in the temple district.

Somehow the number hadn't eased her spirits.

She loosed another arrow and saw a spot of black in the corner of her vision. Looking up quickly she saw him again. The dark figure wasn't going from house to house any longer. He was on the main thoroughfare, and he was coming directly towards the temple. “Grern, go tell Derek our friend the evil wizard is about to join the party.” The gnoll looked at where she was pointing. She knew that to him the wizard would be a tiny black spot, but she could see the flowing black cloak and cloud of darkness easily. Grern just nodded and jumped onto a hanging rope, sliding towards the temple floor below.

***

Derek, held his blade at the ready in the central aisle of the temple. On one side of him stood the old priest, Derek suddenly realized that he'd never asked the Cleric his name, and on his other side stood Jurs. Grern and Serran stood on the alter where they could fire spells and arrows over the main combatants. The rest of the warriors and the Acolytes stood around the hall, ready to engage whatever came through the doors. The Acolytes had donned simple studded leather armor and wielded morning stars and shields emblazoned with the Great Cycle. The priest had emerged from his chambers in an aging suit of plate armor wielding an ornately carved Heavy Flail. He gritted his teeth and steeled himself as the sounds of axes and hammers pounding on the door grew quiet.

With an audible cracking the door became encased in ice, frozen solid. Then, with the sound of a cracking glacier it exploded into shards and fell to the floor. The zombies poured into the temple led by a black cloaked figure that seemed to hover above the ground rather than move across it. The cloak stopped just inside the shattered doors and the zombies stopped behind it. A female voice issued forth from beneath the hood. “You don't have to throw your lives away, you can't defeat us, we will destroy you by sheer numbers if we must, and every one of you who falls will simply rise to fight your former comrades.”

The priest's grip tightened on his flail. “You.” The words were spoken with such rancor it was almost painful to hear them fall from the old man's lips.

The cloaked woman laughed and threw back her hood. She had fine features, and would have been beautiful if not for the hoard of undead awaiting her command. Silvery blonde hair cascaded down her back. “Yes you old fool, me. And I will say again that you can leave this place unharmed. Give us the children and we will depart without further issue.”

Derek spoke up next, trying to retain control over a confusing situation. “Do you think the Garrison will let you walk out of the city after what you've done to the people?” She laughed again, it was a wicked laugh, and made Derek's teeth grind.

“Do you think they could stop me? Even now they can barely force their way past the gates into the district. Whether you fight me or not, I'll have the children and be vanished into the forest long before the garrison comes close enough to see your flayed bodies decorating the walls of the temple grounds. I've waited nearly twelve years for my work to come to fruition, and no one will steal it from me.”

Derek glanced at the priest hoping for some information. The old man obliged. “Her name is Yismena, Or at least, that's the name she uses in the city. She's a priestess of Isenda, the pagan goddess of fertility. She tends to pregnant women and newborns. She probably helped bring every one of those children into the world.”

Again the cruel laugh. “Yes, and you sent them all to me, the ones most desperate for children, the ones who would make any bargain to see their seed bear fruit. Well, the bargain was made, and I'm here to collect.”

Derek again tightened his grip on the sword handle and grimaced in determination.“Over my dead body.” As if on cue the zombies streamed past their dark mistress and into the temple.

Derek fought desperately, from what he could see the acolytes were well trained, and the priest had charged forward himself, the zombies posed him little threat, and he seemed intent on striking down their heretic leader.

The defenders fell back slowly towards the back of the hall. The zombies seemed undeterred, smashing their way through pews and pressing the attack. Derek saw the priest battling the evil woman sporadically, from the sounds of clashing magic he guessed the fight would have been quite epic to watch.

Then he watched the priest fall. The witch was covered in numerous small wounds, and blood trickled from one corner of her lip, but he watched her approach through ruckus of the battle. Serran spoke a word of power and a sheet of flame suddenly sprung into existence cutting across the hall, blocking off the witch and a large number of the zombies.

“Quickly, fall back, we'll stand a better chance if we can fight them in a bottleneck!” Derek nodded at the Gnome's words and felled his current zombie partner as he fell back towards the exit from the hall. Through the flames he could see the witch waving her hands and the fire slowly began to fade. This battle was looking less and less favorable.

***

Serran's advice had been sound, as the mercenaries and acolytes fell back the zombie's advance slowed as their fellows were cut down and began to clog the hallways. Their advance was relentless, however, and Derek soon found himself separated from many of his companions standing with a pair of bloodied acolytes outside the door to the room where the children were being guarded by another half dozen acolytes.

He continued to fight, heartened by the sounds of battle coming from other corridors, and his resolve solidified by the knowledge that he was now the last line of defense left to the children. He stood his ground and fought with every ounce of strength he could muster. Every swipe of his blade felled an undead horror and corpses began to pile around him.

He wasn't coming out unscathed, however, and blood welled from dozens of scratches and bruises covered much of his body. He felled another of the foul beasts and behind it reared the animated corpse of the local blacksmith. Derek brought his sword up to block the blow but it did little to protect him. Fueled by an unearthly strength the hammer blow the man delivered sent the mercenary flying through the air and, with a bone jarring smash, through the wooden doors into the room where the children were cowering in a corner.

Derek climbed unsteadily to his feet as the Zombies surged into the room. The Blacksmith came at him again, but Derek had long ago taken up learning from his mistakes. He sidestepped the blow rather than block it, coming around with a powerful backhand swing to sever the undead artisan's head from his shoulders. The battle continued, zombies hurtling themselves against the few remaining defenders. Derek even saw a few of the older children standing their ground and holding the beasts off with torches taken from wall sconces. With an unearthly screech the witch burst through the doors to the room, tossing some of her own undead pawns aside as she came.

“I will feast upon your soul you insolent wretch!” Derek smiled and held up his blade.

“Taking a little longer to get a hold of the children than you thought it would? I'd bet by now the Paladins must almost be knocking at the temple doors.” With an unintelligible howl she thrust her arm out at Derek. There was another scream from Derek's left and Lasha leapt into his field of vision, her small body interposing itself between him and the sorceress.

Derek had only enough time to scream himself as the jet of flame issuing from the witches hand hit her body and...

vanished.

The witch stared incredulously as her spell faded into nothingness, dissipating harmlessly around the young girl. Before she could utter another incantation powerful hands came down on her arms. With an audible snap Jurs broke both her arms and then snapped her neck before slamming her face into a nearby wall.

Many of the Zombies simply ceased to be animated, their magical unlife drawn directly from their evil master. Those who remained were cut down easily, reduced to the mindless animals which was all they should be in their unnatural states.

Derek looked up and watched Jurs fall to his knees.

“She... smelled bad.” The big troll keeled over, green-black blood leaking from a dozen major wounds, most already closing as Derek watched. One acolyte made to rush over to him but Derek waved him away.

“He's fine, let him sleep it off, I'm sure there'll be plenty of call for your services in the next couple of hours.”

***

Derek looked mournfully at his sword in the temple courtyard. The blacksmith's hammer had caught it on the flat of the blade. It was a miracle it hadn't simply shattered, but it now featured an almost ten degree bend in the blade. If he'd actually had to fight the witch he'd have been done for.

The captain of the Paladins walked up to him and put his helmet on the wagon beside the mercenary. “I'll admit to you, I've never been a big supporter of hiring mercenaries.”

Derek looked over at him. “Do you always start conversations by trying to make friends?”

The Paladin looked shocked for a moment, then stopped and laughed, a deep hearty bellow that made the scars on his face wrinkle. “You hired swords certainly proved your worth today, I'll tell you that.” He sat down heavily beside Derek. “If your people hadn't been here, even if we'd found the beasts we would never had gotten here in time. Everyone of those children owes you their freedom, and their lives, twice now.”

Derek nodded and held up his blade again.“You know any good smiths? I had to kill the one that fixed this sword up last time.”

The Paladin looked at him for a moment then started laughing again. “No worries my friend, I've been in touch with the baron. You'll all be handsomely compensated for your actions today. We'll get you a sword the quality of which you've only dreamed of.”

Derek just shrugged. “What about the children?”

The paladin's joviality dimmed. “That's... complicated. Their families are all dead, many of them are cousins or simply have no living relatives left. They'll probably go into one of the Baron's orphanages until we can find families to raise them or they grow old enough to be apprenticed out to...”

Derek cut him off. “I'll take Lasha.” The Paladin looked at him quizzically, Derek pointed her out of the group of children being tended by Acolytes across the courtyard. “The girl, Lasha. I saved her life and I find myself... getting attached to her.”

The paladin seemed to stumble over his words for a moment. “Well... uh, are... are you sure that's such a good idea? I mean, your life is hardly suitable...”

Derek stuck his sword in the ground and rounded on the Paladin. “Not suitable for a child? Do you really think I'll be continuing as any kind of meaningful mercenary, captain? Nine of my company survived. Nine. Out of 50. And two of those aren't likely to ever pick up a weapon again. By Vandoh's testicles, Kilen had to kill his own sister after that witch raised her, he's been talking about spending the rest of his life in a monastery.” He collapsed heavily onto the wagon. “If those that are left will follow me I think we'll head east, there are always nice garrison contracts out east. Pick up some green troops along the way and spend the next few years in one place scarring off Goblins and Troglodytes.”

The Paladin didn't seem to have a response to that he nodded tersely and took his leave.

Description
Derek smiled as he looked out over the green fields ahead of him. The tall human sat upon his steed, Aurus and fingered the reigns idly as he thought of his contract. The reward was low, a lot lower than what he'd usually even consider, but the target was worth it.

Slavers.

And Cardoan Slavers at that, the worst type. They'd purchased an extra wagon in town, they knew they'd have to transport children. Cardoan's always had children.

There was a rustling sound and Grern was beside him.“I think I've found them, lots of mixed tracks with a few wagons and a pair of chariots, plus drag marks like from loose chains. Maybe 2 hours old.” None of his company had complained about the pay, none of them had any love of Slavers. Grern still had the scar on his cheek where he'd carved his slave brand out of his flesh. The Gnoll's fur bristled in anticipation and he loosened his Kukris in their sheaths.

“Good, stay on them, they can't move slaves that fast, but it'll likely be after dark before we can catch up to them with these wagons. They'll probably have made camp by the time we get there, find me that camp and we'll hit them there.” The Gnoll nodded and made to disappear back into the underbrush. “Grern.” The Gnoll paused and looked back. “Was there any sign of outriders?” The tracker shook his head. “Then take Marissa, if she's serious about taking up rangering she'll need the practice, and her nose is keener than yours for some things.”

The Gnoll's fur bristled again, this time for a different reason. “Sir, I-” Derek cut him off.

“Nothing about distractions, you may have joined my company for her, but if you can't work beside her...” The man trailed off. Grern's feelings for the half-elf were no secret, Marissa seemed to be the only one who didn't know, but Derek also knew that the Gnoll loved his work, and wouldn't give it up for some infatuation that may never be reciprocated. As he'd expected the Gnoll nodded and vanished into the foliage.

***

Serren picked himself up gingerly from the floor of the wagon. His eyebrows were singed and there was a faint smell of burned gnome, but overall he seemed to be in decent shape. Not like the last time, he'd had to pay a druid to regrow his nose after that one. Burstberries and Gullweed were on his permanent 'do-not-mix' list.

Derek pulled open the door on the side of the wagon, letting a large puff of greenish-purple smoke escape. “Damn it to the Frozen Plains Serren, what have I told you about working in the wagon while we're on a mission?!”

The gnome dismissed his rebuke with a wave. “You told me not to, but this latest couldn't wait, I found some Tyfoil by the roadside. I've been saving some Resdine for almost 6 months, it wouldn't have been useful for much longer.”

Derek looked like he was about to go off the handle again when the door on the other side of the wagon opened. The spongy green face which looked through the door on that side was grotesque, yet somehow comforting. “Don't be harsh. What's Tyfoil and Resdine make?”

The gnome looked over at the troll, a wide grin spreading across his face. He held up a small vial glowing the same color as the smoke which had nearly all cleared. “Glad you asked Jurs, nice to see some people still appreciate my pursuits. Just the two of them? Nothing. But with a couple other ingredients, Tyfoil and Resdine makes devilnight.”

Derek's jaw dropped. “Devilnight!?! You've made devilnight!! Are you insane?!! If anyone caught us with that-”

This time Derek got cut off. “They'd confiscate it and throw us all in prison. Fortunately we won't have it for much longer. See, most people don't know about it, but Devilnight has one use other than as a narcotic.” He paused for dramatic impact but the troll ruined it.

“Dissolves metal, doesn't hurt living matter.” The gnome grumbled something about know-it-all monks before Derek spoke up again.

“What good does that do us?”

The gnome rolled his eyes. Derek was an excellent warrior, and mighty good at finding their little mercenary band contracts, but he'd never been very smart. “Because, slave shackles are made of steel, and...” He watched as Derek's brain slowly ground out the answer they needed.

“Slaves aren't, slaves are living matter.” The gnome nodded sagely, but further conversation was cut off by a feral howl coming from the woods. “Marissa and Grern!” The caravan came alive as mounts and warriors rushed into the woods towards the howl. “By the dead gods, MOVE!”

***

Marissa stood over the fallen Gnoll. She had broken her bow over one of the warrior's faces and stood now with one of Grern's Kukri's in her hand. She knew how to use it, but wasn't nearly as good with it as the Gnoll. Despite the circling warriors on horseback she drew some comfort from the sound of Grern's labored breathing. He wasn't dead yet, if she could hold  these bastards at bay long enough for the rest of the company to arrive...

With a shout two of the warriors charged in, their black steeds snorting angrily. With a dropping spin she hamstringed one of the horses, its rider tumbling over the beast's head as it stumbled and fell. The other man's saber cut through her padded armor to draw blood. With a yowl of pain she felt the familiar creep of darkness trying to overcome her. She fought it off, refusing to let it overtake her. If it was to come out, she'd be in charge of when and where. She blocked the second slash by the warrior and saw a third start to move towards her out of the corner of her eye. She took the opening she saw anyways, dropping the blade to cut through the thin cloth of the man's boot. His turn to cry out as his friend drove her to her knees with a blow from a mace or club. The wounded man spoke.

“You little whore. You'll be wearing Cardoan' shackled by nightfall for that!” He kicked her in the face sending her sprawling into the tall grass.

Memories of her time as a slave dancer for the Hy'irs in the south rushed through her mind, and the darkness again edged to the verge of her conscious mind. “No,” She said it quietly, not a denial, not a plea, a statement of fact, “I don't think I will.”

And she let the darkness take over.

***

Derek drew Aurus above the wounded Gnoll. Marissa was kneeling over him, her hands, face, and clothing were covered in blood, as was the rest of the clearing. Several piles could be identified as the remains of creatures. Derek could only assume the smaller piles were men, the larger their mounts.

“One of them got away.” The girl's voice shook as she spoke, but other than that she seemed remarkably steady for a sixteen year old drenched in blood. She pointed into the growing twilight. “That way. I... It wanted to go after him, but I knew I had to stay with Grern, I took control back. It was easier this time.” Gayla, the company's cleric, put a hand on the young girl's shoulder then bent down to tend to Grern. Derek motioned to Jurs and the Troll vanished in the direction the girl had pointed, moving rapidly and near soundlessly through the underbrush. “It was my fault... all my fault. They wouldn't have been able to follow him, they must have tracked me.”

Serren moved up beside her, wiping some of the gore from her face as he put his small arm around her shoulder. “Shush, none of that now.” With a wave of his hand a ghostly blue glow appeared on the woman's boots, a similar glow appeared a few moments later on Grern's paws, it spread across the clearing and then disappeared into the gloom in two parallel sets of tracks. “Magical wards. Neither of you stood any chance of finding them, if you hadn't been here they would have just killed him.” The girl's brow furrowed a bit, but she smiled at the Gnome anyways. “Come on, you've had a tough day, lets get you and our friend the hound dog back to the Caravan and see what comes next, hmm?” The girl nodded and Serren led her into the twilight.

***

Derek sat in a tight circle with the fellow members of his mercenary company. Jurs hadn't returned yet, but Derek wasn't worried, the troll was more than capable of taking care of himself.

“Alright boys, they've taken some of our blood, so now we have more of a reason to take some of theirs.” A rustle ran through the assembled warriors. Corunth, a dwarf from the northern mountains, commented on exactly how necessary that was with slavers. “According to what Marissa brought us they're set up in regular Cardoan fashion, so we have a decent idea of what we're getting into, though it seems they have a caster of some type amongst them.” Less worry than Derek expected at that comment, not terribly surprising though, Cardoa was hardly unknown for its arcane heritage.

“What about the guards? They probably know we're coming.” Veren, an Elf archer made the point.

“Probably, we'll have to plan for it. Hopefully Jurs caught up to the last of them or they'll dismiss it as a local Gnoll tribe.”

There was barely a whisper of warning before the voice came from behind him. “Couldn't catch him, lead too big, even on wounded horse. Avoided ward, guards doubling at posts.” Derek started at the sound. Even after years traveling with the Troll it always unnerved him how easily the monstrously large creature could move about so near to invisible. He regained his composure and nodded at the new info.

“Alright, they're probably just taking precautions, we'll have to do likewise. Veren, break out the crossbows,  we'll take a direct strike prefaced by crossbow barrage. The slaves are probably corralled in the middle of the camp, correct?” Jurs shook his head, his dangling nose swaying with the action.

“Unusual slavers, slaves in wagons...” he paused uncomfortably, “Looks like all children from edge of camp.” Derek scowled, that was unpleasant, but the wagons were a boon, they could use the crossbows with a much smaller likelihood of hitting any slaves.

“Alright, that makes it that much easier,” a tiny figure slipped into the light from the small campfire. “Serren, I doubt Grern's up for anything heroic, but how's Marrissa?” The gnome frowned before answering.

“She wants to come along, she's awfully upset about Grern though, I'm worry it might weaken her restraint at some inopportune moment.”

“Hmm, no, she's a big girl, if she wants to come along we'll just have to trust her to be able to keep herself under control. Alright, anything else?”

Kail, the company's cook, tailor, and general den mother raised her hand. “Tabards? Are we going in bare steel or should we show some color?”

Derek considered it for a moment. “No sense having them think us highway thugs. Let's see, Greyhills hired us, but we must be closer to Brunjun now, Varen?”

The elf thought for a moment. “Trepland, actually, just over that hill. I reckon we're, maybe a day's ride from Daggerwatch.” Derek nodded.

“Sounds good, they've never been big fans of the Cardoan's anyways, we'll go in under Trepland colors, then. That all?” No one raised any more questions. “Alright then, get your gear and saddle up, we move within the hour.”

***

The young guardsman stood uneasily at his post. The marshal had order the guard doubled because of the obvious gnoll presence in the area.

But he'd never seen them burn a horse's corpse after it died from a gnoll's bite.

His partner vanished into the darkness mumbling about taking a piss, leaving the young man to contemplate the odd questions on his own. He never came to a conclusion, unfortunately. A few minutes later he heard a sound like a hammer hitting a straw mattress. He coughed once as he looked down at the crossbow bolt in his chest, then collapsed.

***

Derek charged Aurus into battle with a fury in his eyes. Beside him Jurs kept pace on foot as they barged into the chaos their own bolts had created. Derek's mercenaries weren't numerous, there was about 50 of them, total. But they were well trained with considerable experience, and most of the guards were falling easily before their blades.

Aurus pulled up sharply as a wall of metal and wood spikes presented itself before him. Jurs kept moving. Despite his mass he seemed to pass between the spears, those he did hit were ignored like so many insect bites. Soon he had a passage cleared for the horse and Derek spurred Aurus back into motion.

To his right he saw Marrissa fall from her horse, the straps of her saddle seemingly cut. Derek made to help her, but he heard the same unearthly howl as before and knew she was far from being out yet. He instead charged into a milling group of guards, slashing and cutting down into them as he moved. He heard a cry from towards the center of the camp. A voice too shrill to be a soldier, no man would have come to command troops on the strength of that voice. The words it cried shook Derek to the bone.

“The wagons! Burn the slave wagons! Don't let them get the children!” Derek didn't even pause to shout orders, he could see his men's assault double in ferocity as they realized what that order meant. Even as he leaped into and over another guardsman he saw the orange glow of fire growing towards the center of the camp.

***

Gendarain ran to the next wagon in a panic, his staff in one hand, a torch in the other. These meddlers may overcome the guards, but they would be denied their prize. If Cardoa could not have the power within these wagons, then no Trepland wretches would take it from them.

In the fury of the battle he never even heard the horseman. With a sweep of his sword the torch went flying from Gendarain's hand, extinguishing as it struck the muddy earth. He turned to face the next blow of the warrior, the man's blow stuck his staff, and with a word of power  the wooden weapon sprung to life, it's magical energy nearly sending the man flying from his saddle.

The wizard turned, and with a wave of his hand sent a bolt of flame into the side of the final wagon. He laughed maniacally as he turned to once again face the mounted swordsman. The words of the warrior that had instructed him in basic combat before the expedition came back to his mind.

“In battle, you never face one opponent.”

Too late he felt the claws dig into his shoulder and lower back, pain shooting through his body. The face which craned around to look at him was horrendous. Blood red eyes peered out from beneath sleek gray and black fur, stained with blood around the vicious canines glittering in the firelight. The outrider hadn't been mad, there was indeed a werewolf in the woods.

Gendarain wasn't completely unprepared however. He swung his staff at the beast with what force he could muster, and while the fine silver tracery along its length normally served only as decoration, against the lycanthrope it proved painfully useful, opening a deep gash across it's cheek and loosing its death grip on his back.

A moment later even that was for naught. “In battle, you never face one opponent.” The sword stabbed into his gut at about the same time that the troll's claws tore into his face.

***

With the spellcaster neutralized Derek raced towards the burning wagons. Every pitiful cry from within the inferno was like a poison dart in his very being. Jurs, approached to within a few feet of the wagons, but instinct proved a powerful foe, and he couldn't bring himself to get closer. Corunth had extracted himself form the main melee of the assault and was at the next wagon, assaulting the lock with his warhammer. Derek followed suit, likely notching his sword blade horribly but the cost of his sword was insignificant next to the children inside the wagons.

With a feral growl Marrissa came up beside him, still in her halfbreed form. With a howl of rage she struck, not the lock, but the wall of the wagon. The wood, weakened by the fire gave way easily to her assault, and Corunth and others followed suit with the other wagons.

Dozens of children poured from the wagons, may of them already on fire. Derek saw many forms within the inferno that would never emerge. The battle proper was over and the company clustered around the wagons, frantically trying to put out the children. One young boy, perhaps 12, burst forth from the wagon nearest to Derek, completely engulfed in flame the boy was charging blindly into the darkness, driven by pain and terror. Derek saw a young girl in his way, she wasn't moving, wasn't phased. She sat in the mud in her rags, apparently oblivious to the horrors around her. Derek dashed across the churned earth and snatched the girl up, carrying her out of the path of the immolated boy.

The girl blinked and looked up at him from his arms. She was 8, perhaps 9, with pale skin and big eyes of a shade of blue so odd it looked almost violet. Her hair was was a deep red bordering on brown and was pulled back into a simple braid, though much of it had come loose and seemed to hang in the air around her face.

Derek made to put the girl down but she grabbed hold of his chest with all her strength. He struggled for a moment, and she squirmed around onto his back, holding on as though her very life depended on it. He didn't have time to remove her, and she was unusually strong for her age. He left her where she hung from his back, grabbing a piece of fabric from a nearby tent and racing towards the next burning child.

***

They'd managed to save 43 of the children in all, though they'd laid  nearly twice that to rest. That thought added extra force to Derek's blow as he struck the Cardoan officer. “Why did you... people try to kill those children? Why were they so important that you couldn't even let them get rescued.” The man stared ahead, steely eyed and unresponsive. Derek threw his hands up in surrender. “Fine, you won't tell me I've got someone you might find easier to talk to. JURS!” The Cardoan's eyes widened for a moment as the Troll slipped into the tent, but he forced himself to regain his composer and remain silent. “Maybe Jurs here can convince you to help us out.” Derek stormed out of the tent as the troll began to crack his knuckles.

The young girl who'd attached herself to him the night before was still in his tent when he got there. The plate of food he'd left for her was empty, and she looked up at him as he entered, but gave little sign other than that. Derek sighed and sat down across from her on the second cot.

“What about you? You feel like talking to me this morning?” The girl just stared back, she hadn't uttered a sound since he'd saved her from the rampaging boy. The company's healer had examined her and declared her in good health, if a bit poorly fed. There was no physical reason why she wasn't  talking. Derek sighed again. “How about your name? You must have a name. Mine's Derek Aubermaine. How about you?” The girl just starred back, impassive. Jurs' head stuck in through the tent flap. She looked over at him, appearing fascinated more than anything.

“Officer doesn't know, or trained against Dorein torture.” The Dorein weren't exactly known for their hospitality towards prisoners. Their interrogators had been known to break full grown dragons, given time. “Also, never hold sword again. Seemed upset. Told him take up begging.” Derek nodded  and the Troll retreated, the girl's attention returned to him.

“What about you? I don't suppose they told you why they were so desperate to keep anyone else from getting you, hmm?” She starred blankly at him.

Derrek sighed.

***

Derek stuck the torch in the ground and made sure the flame wasn't too close to the rope, then he climbed up onto Aurus. “There, That should burn through the rope in a few hours. When you see it about to go I'd suggest you all hold your breath, unless you'd like to spend a few hours dancing with each other and eating grass before you get yourselves rescued.” The captured soldiers looked up at the basin of devilnight being held above their heads by the rope.

Derek turned to ride away when one of them spoke up. “What happens if the torch goes out?”

Derek looked back at him as he rode. “Start shouting, and hope some travelers hear you before the wildcats do.”

He turned back around and spurred Aurus to catch up to the rest of the caravan. They would return the children to their homes, collect their payment, and put this mess behind them.

He pulled up beside the wagons and looked at the children inside. The young girl nearly launched herself at him. He caught her and swung her into the saddle in front of him. She held tightly onto his arms as they rode. He spoke soothingly to her for several hours as they rode through the day and into the twilight. “Still don't feel like talking, do you?” She just starred up at him. “Alright, but I'm going to need something to call you. I'm starting to feel like I'm talking to Aurus. How about Violet, for your eyes?”

The girl looked up at him for a minute, then rested her head on his breastplate. “It's Lasha.” Derek looked down at her, astonished by the almost musical tone of her voice. “My name's Lasha Nightwind.”

Derek smiled. “Well, Lasha, soon we'll have you home to your parents and you can talk as much as you want.”

The girl sobbed softly. “No, my parents are dead, all of our parents are. The bad men killed them before they took us.” Derek looked down at her, mortified. He only had a moment to process the information before he heard Jurs' harsh whisper from behind him warning of riders behind them. The Caravan disappeared into the brush along the side of the road quickly enough to stir a moment of pride in Derek. Even the wagons had been concealed quickly by Serren's magic.

The riders wore royal blue cloaks over green and gold hauberks, Cardoan colors. They rode past at a  quick clip, and Derek was about to order the group back onto the road when Jurs hand came down on his arm. The troll shook his head and pointed to his ear. Derek paused a moment and heard the sound of hooves approaching once more from the opposite direction. The Cardoans came to a stop in the middle of the road directly between the two halves of the mercenaries. Now that they were stopped Derek could count them better, 24 warriors, plus a commander in scale mail. “Show yourselves! We know you're out there. Just give us back the children and you'll be able to walk home.” Derek snorted quietly and signaled to Jurs, who vanished into the trees.

“I commend your tracking skills, Cardoan. Does your skill with a blade match? Because you'll need it if you plan to take these children back.”

He thought he saw the commander smirk, and a number of the soldiers drew their weapons. All the soldiers at least loosed them in their scabbards. “Spoken with all the bravado of a condemned servant. But I have no need of a blade to deal with the likes of you.” The Cardoan lifted his hand and a half dozen bolts of light streamed from it. Derek's eyes went wide and he grabbed Lasha, shielding her with his body. Lasha screamed, followed a split second later as two arrows went through the wizard's raised arm. Derek braced himself for the assault from the magical projectiles. But nothing happened. The soldiers were embroiled in battle, triggered by Grern and Marrissa's arrows and led by Jurs. Derek rode over to one of the wagons and passed Lasha up to Serren then drew his sword and rode into the melee.

***

Derek carefully sharpened his blade as he sat near the campfire. The Cardoans had fought well, their soldiers proper always did. It had taken them most of an hour to finish them off. The sun was almost fully set and they decided to make camp. Moving well off the road and carefully removing all sign of their own travel. Serren came and sat beside him. “Derek, what did those magic missiles hit?”

The warrior looked quizzically at the gnome. “I don't know, not me, that's all that matters. Maybe his aim was off because of the brush.”

Serren shook his head. “No, magic missiles like that don't miss. That's not a statement of the skill of people using it, any first year apprentice can, it's a mechanic of the spell. You can't cast it if you don't know where your target is, and it tracks its target unerringly. There's only a handful of techniques for stopping one, and most of those involve letting it hit you, but having another spell or an item that will absorb its energy, rather than letting it hurt you. You didn't pick up any new brooches in town, did you?”

Derek shook his head slowly as he looked down at the gleam of his blade in the firelight. “I didn't see anything, I saw him fire them, I turned away, protecting Lasha. She screamed and... nothing happened. The missiles never hit me.” Derek looked over at the young girl sleeping in his bedroll. She'd refused to sleep in the wagon with the other children, the attack had really frightened her. “You don't suppose she...” Serren just shrugged.

“There's something odd about these kids, the Cardoans are unusually intent on getting them back. But I don't know how she'd stop a magic missile.” He frowned. “Well, I suppose it doesn't matter much, this time tomorrow we'll be back in Greyhills spending our reward and they won't be our problem anymore.” The Gnome stood and headed into the darkness.

Derek frowned and looked over at Lasha again. “Yeah, not our problem...”

***

The priest smiled broadly as he handed Derek the bag of gold with his free hand. He held a 4 year old with the other, careful not to drop him.“Oh, may the Reborn Gods bless you and your company. I can only imagine the horrible things the Cardoans would have done if they'd managed to get the children back to their borders. The monsters, killing so many of the children just out of spite.” Derek rubbed his neck and held up the gold in thanks before looking back at where his men were still helping the last of the children out of the wagons.

“Yeah, it... wasn't pleasant. Tell me, cleric, what is going to happen to the children? I mean, what are you going to do with them?”

The priest seemed surprised. “We'll return them to their parents, of course. They've all been terribly worried about the children.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “But, cleric, Lasha, uh... one of the children, told me that the Cardoans killed all their parents when they kidnapped them. She said she'd watched her mother get stabbed through the throat just before they took her.”

The priest again seemed surprised. “Well, that's simply not possible, perhaps an illusion of some sort, to make the children less resistant. I've been in daily contact with all the parents since this terrible ordeal started. Why, here comes some of them now.” Derek looked and a dozen adults were approaching the temple gate quickly. Some of the children seemed to know them, though none of them were rushing over.

One woman looked towards Derek and shifted course slightly to walk towards him. “Lasha! Lasha my darling, I'm so glad to see you, come give mommy a hug.”

Lasha was standing beside Derek, she slipped behind his leg, an evil look on her face. “You're not mommy, mommy's dead. You're just a monster.” The woman made a stern face and shook her finger at the girl. Derek caught Serren's eye and made a few subtle hand signals. Serren nodded and dug into a pouch on his hip.

“Don't be a silly girl, and calling me a monster? I'll have to give you a good paddling when we get home young lady.” Lasha held more tightly to Derek's hand. He watched as the other 'parents' spread out amongst the children, looking for their own. Off to the side Serren uttered a word of power and waved his hand in the air. The parents seemed to shimmer, their forms becoming insubstantial and then dissolving altogether.

The woman facing Derrek now was a mockery of what had been there a moment before. Her hair was ragged and unkempt, blood stained her blouse and a large knife wound could be seen on the side of her neck. Her eyes were a sightless milky white and her skin was a sickly gray-green. The other adults had changed likewise.

But for a sharp intake of air from behind him and the slight sway of the monstrous humanoids Derek would have sworn time had stopped in the temple plaza. The moment seemed to stretch to infinity before someone stated the obvious. “Zombies.” Jurs didn't shout it, it was his typical manner of speech, the rhythm wasn't even interrupted as he scooped up the nearest of the beasts, holding its neck in his massive powerful hand and squeezing.

The creature that had been Lasha's mother looked down at her hands then sneered at Derek. “Well, aren't we so witty, dispelling our illusions? It doesn't matter, there are hundreds of us, we'll take the children back, and then they'll go to their proper destiny in Cardoa.” She lurched forward and Derek drew his sword. The old priest stepped up beside him, holy symbol at the ready, and Lasha screamed.

The woman seemed to wilt, but Derek couldn't be sure, a moment later his sword was buried in the creature's forehead an a blast of holy energy burned into her chest. She fell to the ground, the unholy energies which had driven her having fled. All around the temple grounds similar scenes were played out. Jurs separated his captured zombie's head from its shoulders without ever raising his other hand, the warriors of the mercenary company, battle hardened, had recovered quickly enough and laid into the creatures with steel and wood. One of the acolytes destroyed a zombie with what looked like a hammer made of pure light. All in all it was over in a matter of moments.

The Priest started shouting. “The other parents, by the Dead Gods, send a messenger bird to the barracks! Quickly, bar the gates, this is where they'll be coming if they're after the children. Get the children into the temple. They'll be safer there!” The courtyard burst into activity, as the gates swung shut Derek glimpsed several doors further down the street burst open and numerous “humans” come charging out, wielding whatever weaponry they'd managed to find. They angled towards the temple but would have to contend with the temple walls now. Warriors and clerics were scooping up as many children as they could and were heading for the temple doors. He grabbed Lasha in one arm, his sword still held in the other,  and made for the temple. He glimpsed Jurs, two children in each arm and at least three hanging onto the short grass-like hair on his back. Serren and Marrissa were herding children as fast as they could when the first sounds of hacking at the gates began.

They managed to get everyone into the temple and seal those doors. The warriors stayed in the front hall as acolytes began to herd the children deeper into the temple. The priest walked up beside Derek and knelt before the altar. The Great Cycle hung impassively above the two men, the Dead Gods resting on the bottom of the wheel, the Reborn Gods standing triumphantly at it's peak, all looking to the hub where the Archangel Jarra held the world on her lap and shielded mortals from the pure power of the gods.

“I don't understand how I could have been such a fool. Almost a week. Every day some of them would come to me. The day after the children were taken they all came to me, nearly three hundred of them in the temple courtyard, and still I didn't see them for what they were.” He bowed his head as if asking forgiveness.

“Good magic, no smell.” Both men jumped at the sound of the Troll's voice. Derek doubted the priest would be assuaged by the fact that Jurs hadn't been able to smell the zombies.

Serren walked up beside the troll. “He's right, I think there must be a Cardoan wizard in the city somewhere. That was a powerful illusion, not the type of thing you can make last several days without some type of maintenance, and I didn't see any mystical items on them that would have created that illusion.”

Derek sighed. He'd done that much too often the past few days. “Well, it won't be the first spellcaster we've dealt with saving these children. The men?” he looked up at Jurs, the Troll nodded.

“Ready. Got most of the supplies off the wagons coming in. Could last three days.”

The priest stood up. “I don't think it'll be nearly that long, my over sized friend. The paladins from the city barracks will be mobilizing as we speak, and we have a few here in the temple, plus myself and my acolytes. Even if there are over two hundred of them and a wizard, I don't imagine we'll even need your rations for dinner.”

Grern dropped in from the balcony above the altar, landing only a few feet from the startled cleric. “I wouldn't bet on that holyman.” Derek looked at him. “If there's two hundred odd of them, I'd say they're all accounted for out there. There's about fifty of them still working at hacking through the temple gates, the rest turned back. They're going house to house, and Marrissa says she can see something... dark passing from house to house further away from us.” The priest's eyes went wide. More experienced with undead he made the connection before the others.

“They're killing the citizens. And that 'dark' is going to be your wizard. Made to order reinforcements.”

Derek gulped, worry creasing his face. “Those doors are the only way in or out of this building, right?”

The priest nodded. “There used to be connections to a set of catacombs under the city, but they'd become unstable and we ordered all passages into them fully sealed almost 20 years ago.”

Derek breathed a small sigh of relief. “Alright, I suppose we'll make our stand here then, if they get through. How long should your paladin friends take?”

The priest shrugged and shook his head. “If they're making more zombies they'll likely be used to slow the garrison's advance. I'll send them word of what's happening, they'll mobilize the regular militia to join them. If you'll excuse me.” The priest hustled out of a rear exit, whispering orders to one of the acolytes as he went.

***

Marrissa loosed another arrow and watched as another of the zombies fell. The undead beasts had managed to cut their way through the massive wooden doors that had bounded the temple grounds and were working on the doors to the temple proper. Luckily Greyhill still had one of the old style temples, with large flat stone walls, no massive stained glass windows so prevalent in temples built more recently. The defenders with bows had made their way out onto the temple roof and had turned the courtyard into a killing field, or a re-killing field, she wasn't quite sure.

She and Grern were in the bell tower, as the best archers it was only sensible to give them the most advantageous spot. It also gave them an unparalleled view of the city, Marrissa's lycathropic eyes were sharper than any regular mortal's and while she hadn't caught sight of the dark figure that seemed to be the source of these zombies, she could see where the city militia was engaging another force of zombies well north of the temple. The Guard had managed to get most of the gates between districts of the city closed, and the zombies didn't seem terribly interested in breaching those. She'd been told there were only about fifteen hundred people in the temple district.

Somehow the number hadn't eased her spirits.

She loosed another arrow and saw a spot of black in the corner of her vision. Looking up quickly she saw him again. The dark figure wasn't going from house to house any longer. He was on the main thoroughfare, and he was coming directly towards the temple. “Grern, go tell Derek our friend the evil wizard is about to join the party.” The gnoll looked at where she was pointing. She knew that to him the wizard would be a tiny black spot, but she could see the flowing black cloak and cloud of darkness easily. Grern just nodded and jumped onto a hanging rope, sliding towards the temple floor below.

***

Derek, held his blade at the ready in the central aisle of the temple. On one side of him stood the old priest, Derek suddenly realized that he'd never asked the Cleric his name, and on his other side stood Jurs. Grern and Serran stood on the alter where they could fire spells and arrows over the main combatants. The rest of the warriors and the Acolytes stood around the hall, ready to engage whatever came through the doors. The Acolytes had donned simple studded leather armor and wielded morning stars and shields emblazoned with the Great Cycle. The priest had emerged from his chambers in an aging suit of plate armor wielding an ornately carved Heavy Flail. He gritted his teeth and steeled himself as the sounds of axes and hammers pounding on the door grew quiet.

With an audible cracking the door became encased in ice, frozen solid. Then, with the sound of a cracking glacier it exploded into shards and fell to the floor. The zombies poured into the temple led by a black cloaked figure that seemed to hover above the ground rather than move across it. The cloak stopped just inside the shattered doors and the zombies stopped behind it. A female voice issued forth from beneath the hood. “You don't have to throw your lives away, you can't defeat us, we will destroy you by sheer numbers if we must, and every one of you who falls will simply rise to fight your former comrades.”

The priest's grip tightened on his flail. “You.” The words were spoken with such rancor it was almost painful to hear them fall from the old man's lips.

The cloaked woman laughed and threw back her hood. She had fine features, and would have been beautiful if not for the hoard of undead awaiting her command. Silvery blonde hair cascaded down her back. “Yes you old fool, me. And I will say again that you can leave this place unharmed. Give us the children and we will depart without further issue.”

Derek spoke up next, trying to retain control over a confusing situation. “Do you think the Garrison will let you walk out of the city after what you've done to the people?” She laughed again, it was a wicked laugh, and made Derek's teeth grind.

“Do you think they could stop me? Even now they can barely force their way past the gates into the district. Whether you fight me or not, I'll have the children and be vanished into the forest long before the garrison comes close enough to see your flayed bodies decorating the walls of the temple grounds. I've waited nearly twelve years for my work to come to fruition, and no one will steal it from me.”

Derek glanced at the priest hoping for some information. The old man obliged. “Her name is Yismena, Or at least, that's the name she uses in the city. She's a priestess of Isenda, the pagan goddess of fertility. She tends to pregnant women and newborns. She probably helped bring every one of those children into the world.”

Again the cruel laugh. “Yes, and you sent them all to me, the ones most desperate for children, the ones who would make any bargain to see their seed bear fruit. Well, the bargain was made, and I'm here to collect.”

Derek again tightened his grip on the sword handle and grimaced in determination.“Over my dead body.” As if on cue the zombies streamed past their dark mistress and into the temple.

Derek fought desperately, from what he could see the acolytes were well trained, and the priest had charged forward himself, the zombies posed him little threat, and he seemed intent on striking down their heretic leader.

The defenders fell back slowly towards the back of the hall. The zombies seemed undeterred, smashing their way through pews and pressing the attack. Derek saw the priest battling the evil woman sporadically, from the sounds of clashing magic he guessed the fight would have been quite epic to watch.

Then he watched the priest fall. The witch was covered in numerous small wounds, and blood trickled from one corner of her lip, but he watched her approach through ruckus of the battle. Serran spoke a word of power and a sheet of flame suddenly sprung into existence cutting across the hall, blocking off the witch and a large number of the zombies.

“Quickly, fall back, we'll stand a better chance if we can fight them in a bottleneck!” Derek nodded at the Gnome's words and felled his current zombie partner as he fell back towards the exit from the hall. Through the flames he could see the witch waving her hands and the fire slowly began to fade. This battle was looking less and less favorable.

***

Serran's advice had been sound, as the mercenaries and acolytes fell back the zombie's advance slowed as their fellows were cut down and began to clog the hallways. Their advance was relentless, however, and Derek soon found himself separated from many of his companions standing with a pair of bloodied acolytes outside the door to the room where the children were being guarded by another half dozen acolytes.

He continued to fight, heartened by the sounds of battle coming from other corridors, and his resolve solidified by the knowledge that he was now the last line of defense left to the children. He stood his ground and fought with every ounce of strength he could muster. Every swipe of his blade felled an undead horror and corpses began to pile around him.

He wasn't coming out unscathed, however, and blood welled from dozens of scratches and bruises covered much of his body. He felled another of the foul beasts and behind it reared the animated corpse of the local blacksmith. Derek brought his sword up to block the blow but it did little to protect him. Fueled by an unearthly strength the hammer blow the man delivered sent the mercenary flying through the air and, with a bone jarring smash, through the wooden doors into the room where the children were cowering in a corner.

Derek climbed unsteadily to his feet as the Zombies surged into the room. The Blacksmith came at him again, but Derek had long ago taken up learning from his mistakes. He sidestepped the blow rather than block it, coming around with a powerful backhand swing to sever the undead artisan's head from his shoulders. The battle continued, zombies hurtling themselves against the few remaining defenders. Derek even saw a few of the older children standing their ground and holding the beasts off with torches taken from wall sconces. With an unearthly screech the witch burst through the doors to the room, tossing some of her own undead pawns aside as she came.

“I will feast upon your soul you insolent wretch!” Derek smiled and held up his blade.

“Taking a little longer to get a hold of the children than you thought it would? I'd bet by now the Paladins must almost be knocking at the temple doors.” With an unintelligible howl she thrust her arm out at Derek. There was another scream from Derek's left and Lasha leapt into his field of vision, her small body interposing itself between him and the sorceress.

Derek had only enough time to scream himself as the jet of flame issuing from the witches hand hit her body and...

vanished.

The witch stared incredulously as her spell faded into nothingness, dissipating harmlessly around the young girl. Before she could utter another incantation powerful hands came down on her arms. With an audible snap Jurs broke both her arms and then snapped her neck before slamming her face into a nearby wall.

Many of the Zombies simply ceased to be animated, their magical unlife drawn directly from their evil master. Those who remained were cut down easily, reduced to the mindless animals which was all they should be in their unnatural states.

Derek looked up and watched Jurs fall to his knees.

“She... smelled bad.” The big troll keeled over, green-black blood leaking from a dozen major wounds, most already closing as Derek watched. One acolyte made to rush over to him but Derek waved him away.

“He's fine, let him sleep it off, I'm sure there'll be plenty of call for your services in the next couple of hours.”

***

Derek looked mournfully at his sword in the temple courtyard. The blacksmith's hammer had caught it on the flat of the blade. It was a miracle it hadn't simply shattered, but it now featured an almost ten degree bend in the blade. If he'd actually had to fight the witch he'd have been done for.

The captain of the Paladins walked up to him and put his helmet on the wagon beside the mercenary. “I'll admit to you, I've never been a big supporter of hiring mercenaries.”

Derek looked over at him. “Do you always start conversations by trying to make friends?”

The Paladin looked shocked for a moment, then stopped and laughed, a deep hearty bellow that made the scars on his face wrinkle. “You hired swords certainly proved your worth today, I'll tell you that.” He sat down heavily beside Derek. “If your people hadn't been here, even if we'd found the beasts we would never had gotten here in time. Everyone of those children owes you their freedom, and their lives, twice now.”

Derek nodded and held up his blade again.“You know any good smiths? I had to kill the one that fixed this sword up last time.”

The Paladin looked at him for a moment then started laughing again. “No worries my friend, I've been in touch with the baron. You'll all be handsomely compensated for your actions today. We'll get you a sword the quality of which you've only dreamed of.”

Derek just shrugged. “What about the children?”

The paladin's joviality dimmed. “That's... complicated. Their families are all dead, many of them are cousins or simply have no living relatives left. They'll probably go into one of the Baron's orphanages until we can find families to raise them or they grow old enough to be apprenticed out to...”

Derek cut him off. “I'll take Lasha.” The Paladin looked at him quizzically, Derek pointed her out of the group of children being tended by Acolytes across the courtyard. “The girl, Lasha. I saved her life and I find myself... getting attached to her.”

The paladin seemed to stumble over his words for a moment. “Well... uh, are... are you sure that's such a good idea? I mean, your life is hardly suitable...”

Derek stuck his sword in the ground and rounded on the Paladin. “Not suitable for a child? Do you really think I'll be continuing as any kind of meaningful mercenary, captain? Nine of my company survived. Nine. Out of 50. And two of those aren't likely to ever pick up a weapon again. By Vandoh's testicles, Kilen had to kill his own sister after that witch raised her, he's been talking about spending the rest of his life in a monastery.” He collapsed heavily onto the wagon. “If those that are left will follow me I think we'll head east, there are always nice garrison contracts out east. Pick up some green troops along the way and spend the next few years in one place scarring off Goblins and Troglodytes.”

The Paladin didn't seem to have a response to that he nodded tersely and took his leave.