Chapter Fifteen

  In the Barrows of Lichfield

  Strange times had come upon the river people. Black cloaked men, pale of face and sallow of eyes, swept through the village by Petal River like a chilling mist. In the dark of the night, they rattled the doors of each house, demanding to know who had stolen from the white tower in the woods. And eventually they had a name. “Kugo of Ordo.” What was more, the Sons of Barthus knew the other two as well. Visions not their own flickered through their minds. And this failure became opportunity, for the golem was with him.

  The party traveled through a half dozen villages with little incident. And travel through was the right way to put it. Kugo was certain that someone had been following them for the past couple of days, but he never found more than light footsteps near their camp. But he hadn’t mentioned it, having no real proof beyond intuition. Much to Nephis’ vexing, they had slept every night on the road. But their stalkers were not why. A room at an inn cost far too much. A cheap room, shared with a great, rickety bed in the center, would cost them near five bronze sac. Days of food! And Kugo dare not speak of an expensive inn, one with a private room – they would be cleared out in one sharp blow.

  Everywhere they went, they attracted attention. And this town was no different. It was hard to avoid, especially with Moss looking so odd. For a while, they might elude it, should he kept his wide-brimmed hat low over his face. But eventually, they would cause a scene. Nephis hardly seemed to notice. It was no wonder, Kugo thought to himself, she likely thought nothing of drawing the eyes of common folk. If anything, Nephis might find the indifference of everyday people to be off-putting. It dug at Kugo’s mind; however, he had little desire to be spotted. After all, it was awfully dangerous to be popular. They must buy Moss some more coverings; perhaps the princess could have two masked companions – or maybe that would simply make it all worse.

  “That will be three sac,” the shopkeep said, “But why are you buying all this now? Most everything would be open in the morning, not that I’m one to complain.”

  “We’re leaving tonight,” Kugo explained as he set the coins on the table and pulled over a small pouch of dried herbs that Nephis had harangued him into buying.

  “Are you certain you wouldn’t rather get a room for the evening?” the shopkeep asked, a wince pulling on his face. “There are plenty of rooms at good prices here.”

  “No, we are quite alright,” he answered firmly.

  The shopkeeper sighed and sent them on their way.

  Doliu was a small town that bordered Lichfield, a mile-wide basin full of earthen mounds. Though it was little, mighty walls surrounded it, and her homes were stacked high. The town could weather an army, walled off with fat, wooden palisades so tight that a worm could not crawl through them and so tall that not even the highest of trees peeked over. Doliu was not all that large, but even still, their refusal to build outside of the walls made it feel busy and full. The sun had not yet begun to set, but the men of the town had already begun to light the braziers that sat along the high wall. The three of them sat and watched them for a while. What a waste, they all thought, perfectly good charcoal being burned all too early. It must have been some scheme to attract visitors; it really was no wonder that the shopkeep had been so pushy to get them to room for the night. But it was only when they found the western gate already locked up for the night that something began to feel off.

  “Hello!” Kugo banged on the gatekeeper’s door, “Why is the gate shut?” he barked.

  “It’s closing time!” the gateman replied through a little window.

  “The sun is still up!” Kugo said.

  “Yep, this is when we always close it,” the gateman answered. “We’ll open again at sunrise.”

  Kugo felt a chill run down his spine. The last thing he wanted was to risk being boxed in with their shadows. “We need to leave. Immediately,” Kugo said in an iron-fast tone.

  “I wouldn’t risk that, if I were you,” the gateman said grimly.

  “Why’s that?” Kugo asked.

  “Kugo,” Nephis whined, “Let’s just stay the night.”

  Kugo ignored her and waited for an answer.

  The gateman leaned towards the barred window and replied in a hushed voice, “The dead roam at night, out in the valley.”

  Kugo scoffed. So this was their scheme. Spook travelers with a story and nip up their silver with an inn and a few little services to round out their pockets. “There’s no such thing,” Kugo replied, “I’ve heard enough, let us through.”

  “I’m being honest!” the gateman defended himself. “Sometimes they even come up at night and paw at the walls. They’re not shy! My brother, he almost got got by one, you can ask him.”

  “What? Over a pint at the inn?” Kugo mocked, “Let us through, I don’t want to hear any more of your folktales.”

  When it became clear that Kugo would not back down, the gateman sighed and pulled the bar that bid the doors shut. It was kept in an iron sleeve fed into the gatehouse. For all the theatrics of the town, it was an impressive gate. Kugo and Moss were left to struggle with it on their own; it was a weighty and solid thing.

  The gate was quickly shut behind them, and the beam returned it its place, the shunting sound casting them off. As they walked, Kugo looked over the basin. It sank away from the road like a bowl. From here, he could see dozens of mounds, some ringed with stones, others left to be grown over. If one were not careful, they might mistake them for small hills or even islands. The land down there was marshy and wet; last night’s rainstorm still pooled between the rises.

  “Nephis, was there ever a great battle here?” he asked.

  Nephis looked over the way and racked her mind. “Not that I’ve ever read of,” she answered, “But this is an old land, who knows what happened here a thousand years ago.”

  As the town of Doliu shrank behind them, a chill came over Nephis. She looked once more at the mounds. Lichfield. These were doubtless barrows, so many were they that its inhabitants named it field of the dead. How many great heroes were lost to the ages here? And why so many? Was it a holy site to them? Or was it something darker? These thoughts swarmed through her mind.

  “Kugo? Are you certain that the gateman was lying?” she asked.

  “Of course!” he snapped. She had already twisted his arm into buying herbs he could collect, there was no chance he would let her drag him into buying a room or two for the evening. “There’s no such thing as ghosts or ghouls.”

  Nephis stammered; the dark feeling still had not left her. “Well, there are demons! These people clearly believe something is happening!” she argued.

  “Absolutely not, they will clear us out if they get the chance!” he said. And they pushed forward.

  But not five minutes had passed before Nephis’ feet began to hurt; they had been walking all day. And barrows ever lurked in the corner of her eyes. “Kugo, could we not turn back?” Nephis whined, “It is only a mile. Look, there isn’t a place around here that would make for a good camp!” Kugo ignored her and pushed forward.

  Looking out past them, there were only great hills and mounds pressing from the earth. There was not a more than a scraggly tree or stone in sight. As much as trees or stones were good for hiding in, that was true for him and others. Here, he might be able to catch anyone trying to follow them. But as he whipped his head around the great, empty fields, he could not see a soul but for Nephis and Moss.

  “Moss! Carry me! I can walk no more!” Nephis lamented. And Moss obliged.

  Eventually, it grew dark. Great shadows spilled over the hills, making it seem that pools of black blood filled them. Kugo pressed them until he found a boulder that sat nestled in a hill. They set up their camp for the evening, and Kugo built a little fire with what wood he carried with him. In the hills, there were few trees and little dry lumber. So the fire would be small and the food cold. Nephis was quick to fall asleep, wrapping up in her bedroll as soon as she had cleaned out her bit of bread. But Kugo could not sleep. He was certain that out there in the dark something lurked. It was not trouble; he had stayed up through the night many times, and many times more since their new journey began. The sky above them was clogged with thin, dark clouds, so that no starlight graced them.

  “Do you like to sleep outside?” Moss asked, the firelight glittering in his eyes. Kugo was glad to see he was normal again.

  “I’d prefer a bed,” Kugo admitted, “But I’ve grown used to this.”

  Moss looked down in thought. He did not yet understand why Kugo did the things he did. “Why are we here?” he then asked.

  “We can’t afford to rent a room, as much as Nephis would like to,” Kugo said. “Do you like to sleep in a bed?” Kugo asked. “You haven’t done it much, have you?”

  “It’s nice,” Moss echoed, “It’s soft.”

  “And I’d guess you’re fine with sleeping outside?” Kugo asked.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “That makes two of us!” Kugo whistled, “Imagine how much we’ll save, never renting an inn again.”

  Moss hung his head low.

  Seeing this, Kugo changed his mind, “Well, I supposed it wouldn’t hurt, every now and then,” he said with a sigh.

  “Woo!” Moss cheered.

  They were quiet again for a while. And there was no noise, but the crackling of the fire and the chirping, ringing sound of crickets. Wind blew over the hills, the cold night air ripping through his garments. And on it was carried the sweet scent of grass and rain. There was a loneliness to the plains that he did not enjoy. He was a man of the mountains and the woods; those in a sense were certain to him. They were fortified and sturdy. But the hills and valleys were open to all; anyone could waltz through them uninvited, as they did now. And anyway you looked, they seemed the same. It was easy to get lost in a winding city, but it was harder to find your way through the churning hills of tall grass, like water pulling wherever the tide took it.

  Behind them was the great, grey rock, and in the quiet of the night, he noticed something. It was not a lone boulder at all, but a standing stone. The carvings were long faded, and in the dark, he could not make them out. But it once commemorated something grand, or else it would not have been so large. He turned once more to Moss, so as to make a comment. But as he did, he saw a grey bank of fog creeping towards them; a mist had rolled in from nowhere. He quickly jumped for his blade, but as his hand touched it, a great weariness fell over him. His breathing grew heavy, and his eyes full of that fog. Moss looked at him, his mouth opened and closed, but Kugo could not understand a word. And then, there was nothing.

  Nephis awoke in the pitch black. The air was stale and full of the smothering musk of dust and incense. “Kugo? Moss?” she called. Besides her, Kugo groaned. There was something on her face, she bat it away like cobwebs, and it tangled around her arm. Nephis muttered a spell, and a ball of fire erupted in her hands. There was a thin, white sheet around her and one around Kugo. Seeing her surroundings, she gasped. They were in a tomb. Packed dirt walls rounded up, supported by wooden archways. She and him each lay on stone beds, Moss was nowhere to be seen. Kugo shot up. “Where are we?” he hissed. His mask was gone, as were his swords and things, but as his sharp face strained, Nephis saw that something glinted in the light. His long, black hair was braided with golden pins. And she looked down to find a copper cudgel clasped in her own pale hand.

  She pulled back in surprise, and the rod came clattering to the stone. It clammored and rang through the domed room. She swept it up in a flash, and its sound faded away in the muffled silence. The chamber was plain, though clay pots lay at the foot of either cairn. And in them were long-rotted offerings, food, and trinkets all piled together. Something cold dripped onto Nephis’ nose, and she jumped. Water seeped through the ceiling and down onto them.

  “We are in the barrows,” she whispered.

  Kugo’s eyes grew wide. “Where is Moss?” he asked.

  And indeed, Moss was nowhere to be seen. Both knew at once that they must find him, lest a terrible fate come upon their friend. They stripped the veils from themselves, setting them in a bundle on the floor. Nephis sniffed the air and then herself, and found that the scent of incense came from her and him. There was oil and perfume on her neck and in her hair. She shivered. How long had they been asleep for? And how terrible had their slumber been to not wake for any of this.

  At the end of the chamber was a tunnel with a low and crude archway. The floor here was packed dirt, but it was not smooth; rather, it was scattered with footprints. All the same, long and flat-footed. They wandered from the chamber, beyond the tunnel, and back again. And then, they heard it. Shuffling from further within. They were not alone. Their fellow paced back and forth, yet unseen, and whoever he was, he had a limp leg, for each step he took was followed by a dragging hush. Pat, shunt, pat, shunt, pat, shunt, and so on.

  Kugo bit his tongue. He had been right. Someone had been watching them, and now they were trapped down below Lichfield. Something had overcome without him being able to see them.

  His heart pounded in his throat. As soon as they walked too far, whoever was beyond them would see the light of Nephis’ fire, but without it, they were blind. And so they waited, frozen in fear for what was to come. The water dripped onto the ground, falling into a pool that tolled every few seconds. It was deep enough that it should trip anyone not paying attention and wet their ankles. Every time it did, Nephis flinched, and shadows on the wall shook, shaking like the tail of a cat waiting to pounce upon its prey.

  Kugo looked down on her; a sharpness was in his eyes, and he flicked them forward. They could not stay here forever. Someone had to move first, and it might as well be them. Before he could step forward, Nephis handed him the mace. It was flat and tapered out to a wide top. Its hilt was marked by rings to fit the shape of the hand. Though a simple tool, whoever had made it well understood the needs of its wielder.

  Kugo went first, hunching low to the ground, the copper club at the ready. He cast long shadows that stretched across the floor in a frightening visage, great black spidery limbs waiting to pluck a lonely child from their bed. Soon they came to a cross joining two separate chambers. And there they saw it. A tall and weathered figure hunched over a cairn, his spine shone through his shirt and his crooked neck bent low, too weak to fully support his head. His clothes were scraps of once fine wares, now mottled by holes and fraying ends. The colors had long faded, ruined by the water that seeped through the ground. He was bent over a stone slab, nimbly attending to a desiccated body, adjusting a jeweled necklace that graced her skeleton. But seeing the firelight that spilled around the corner, the warden turned to face them. Two empty sockets bore through them.

  His body creaked as he moved. Nephis and Kugo dare not move. Before them stood a ghoul, a creature animated in foul mimicry of life. Dry, thin skin stretched over his skull, and time-cured flesh poked through his dull skin, like wine bursting from a skin. He was tall, with wide shoulders and long, skeletal fingers. Whoever he had been in life, he must have been great. Upon seeing the creature, Nephis twitched. The ghoul gnashed its teeth in anger, and from its side it drew a weapon of its own, a short spear made of tarnished copper. And it rushed at them.

  It jabbed at Kugo, who jumped back to avoid, knocking into Nephis and almost burning himself. She nearly lost the spell as she tumbled to the ground, slamming into the hard earth. From the ground, she watched as Kugo and the warden fought. Kugo tried to close in, but the ghoul would not let him, always stabbing and always stepping back. For all his strength and speed, Kugo could hardly match him. Kugo tripped, falling back into the wall. And before Nephis could pick herself up, the ghoul lunged at Kugo, his copper spear aimed straight for his heart. But right as it was to strike him, Kugo bat the spear away and brought down his club upon the abominations head with a sickening crunch. The force of the blow cast it down, bits of its skull scattered on the floor. Kugo took a moment to catch his breath.

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  “Something wicked is at work here,” he said, “I was wrong.”

  But before he could begin to think, Nephis cried out, “Kugo, it’s not finished!”

  And the ghoul rose from the ground, taking up its spear with old, tired hands, as if it were a well-worn memory. Without wasting a moment, it lunged at Kugo, catching him in his side. He gasped in pain. It was only a scratch, but if Kugo had been slow for a moment, it might have been fatal. The ghoul did not relent for a moment; it needed not to rest or to breathe, only to draw blood and kill. And Kugo began to slow; the copper club was not too heavy, or it had not been too heavy, but now with every swing it grew a pound denser.

  “Nephis!” he bellowed, “Do something!”

  She panicked. Nephis twiddled her hands and her thoughts stuttered, blank of all useful works.

  “Cast a spell! Anything!” Kugo cried again as he jumped out of the way of another lunge.

  Her mind was awash with the handful of spells she knew, all of them spilling together into sludge. And as she worried, she saw a loose stone in the ground, half as big as her head. And though it was heavy, she hoisted it above her and brought it down upon the skeleton while it still hounded Kugo. Once again, it clattered to the ground. And Nephis began to chant a spell, hoping she might destroy the body.

  The chaff is burned, and in the unworthy are separated from the holy, and so men become gold.

  Fire spread across the warden’s clothes, and oily smoke rose to the ceiling. But bodies are slow to truly burn, and with the smoke and flames, so rose the ghoul. Nephis stopped chanting immediately, but the clothes now fed the blaze. Before them stood a ball of fire and bone, its robes and death-oils fueling its malice. It jumped at Nephis, trying to grab hold of her hair and punch a hole through her chest. She fled, scurrying down the hall, not looking where she went - her back to the darkness. Kugo quickly captured its hatred, slamming into the ghoul with his cudgel so fearsomely that he could not be ignored. But he pulled back. The flames sindged Kugo whenever he drew too near.

  “Put it out!” he cried.

  “I can’t! It’s not my fire anymore!” she cried back.

  The chamber was bright now, carvings of thunder and split trees caught the darkness like ink on paper. Kugo batted back the beast, jabbing at it, but his skin now glistened with sweat, and his breathing grew heavy and deliberate. He held out the club as far as it would go, as if he were fencing, and even still, he could feel his knuckles singe. The ghoul never stopped stabbing, never stopped attacking. Worse still, it was not a brute, but still remembered its days in the sun, fighting well enough on these fields to earn a kingly barrow. It was all Kugo could do to keep it at bay. If only he could get close again! He thought. If only he could deal with this fire! The skeleton charged at him, its cloak burned so bright it darkened him. Kugo barely sidestepped it.

  “Nephis!” he yelled, “Distract it for a second!”

  “Me?” she cried. “But I-”

  “Just for a moment!” he pleaded.

  The princess swallowed her fears and chucked a pebble at it, knocking it in the back. It did not even react. Kugo cried out again; he was slowing. Her eyes bounced around the chambers and halls, looking for anything to beat it with, to draw its attention. And then she saw the dead the warden had been attending, her gold still glittering in the firelight. Nephis rushed to pick up a jar, and prayed that these too were not secretly waiting to pounce on her, and she heaved the clay vessel at the poor lady, who fell to pieces under the weight, her bones and jewels scattering.

  The ghoul snapped its head at the sound; it seemed like a demon wreathed in flames. Nephis grabbed the skull of the lady skeleton and placed it beneath her feet. This, the warden could not watch, and he rushed to her, the flames growing greater and hotter as he did. Nephis shrieked and ran to the far chamber, and the skeleton chased her around. It shambled after her, blocking her exit.

  Kugo tore off his outer shirt and spun it around his hand like a thick glove. He charged after the ghoul. As it cornered Nephis, he dug his wrapped hand into its broken skull, where the heat had reached, but the flames had not, and gripped it tightly. Kugo sprinted, dragging the warden down the long, dark hall, who clattered and bounced with every bump and dip in the floor. The ghoul readied his spear, but before he could put it through, Kugo swung round and plunged him into the shallow pool. He thrust him in and out of the water until the fire was put out, and it was dark. In the blackness, Kugo beat the goul with his club, its brazen skull held fast despite the fractures. He pulled at his thin, desiccated arms until one ripped off. And then another. With no weapon, the creature gnawed at Kugo, who roared in anger. He hacked its legs until the copper cudgel shattered them.

  Nephis ran down the hall, a mote of flame suspended above her palm to show a damp Kugo strangling with the torso of a skeleton who snapped at him. She cried out. A bony hand pulled itself along the floor, dragging itself back to the ghoul. “Kugo!” she yelled, but he didn’t hear. And the arm popped itself back on. This Kugo saw and once again tore it off. Kugo picked up the torso, prying its dry jaws from his arm. He stuffed the wretched body into one of the old, clay jars, and set it upside down.

  He fell to his knees and took deep and terrible breaths. Donk, donk, donk, the ghoul knocked its head against the inside of the jar. “Find something heavy to way down the arms,” he wheezed. And Nephis ran around to find stones and other containers to seal the arms and legs away. Eventually, it was peaceful again. They did not say anything for a long while, only waited for something to happen, but nothing came. The sound of bone against clay echoed through the halls like a primitive instrument.

  “How do you suppose they put us down here?” Kugo asked.

  “Well, the gatekeeper did say the dead roam at night, so there must be an exit around here,” she said.

  “Mm,” Kugo nodded. And only then did he notice the gold pins glittering in his hair. “What’s this?” he wondered.

  “I suppose the ghoul put those there,” Nephis hummed, “It was tending to other dead. Perhaps it thought we were new wards.”

  “Gold pins, gold earrings. This tomb sure is full of it,” he said.

  “Earrings?” Nephis touched her ears to find solid, thin jewelry hanging from them. In all the terror, she hadn’t noticed the extra weight. “I suppose so,” and she went to remove them.

  “Wait,” Kugo said, “All this gold here . . .”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I would never rob a tomb, but a barrow full of the undead, well,” he coyly suggested, a devious glint in his eyes.

  Nephis chuckled. “Hohoho.” All of their money troubles and discomforts seemed to be melting away.

  And so they scoured the tomb in search of Moss. They were careful not to wake any undead, but it seemed the warden was a lonely fellow. There were three chambers, each with two or three cairns. At the end of it, their necks were graced with gold and jewels fitting a king, their arms were ringed in silver. But the most costly of their loot was a golden brazier, small enough to cup in two hands, and its rim was lined with polished gemstones, ruby and emerald, and opal. They piled their treasures into a clay jar and crept through the barrow until they came to a large, round chamber. Which was not supported by pillars, but by rough, unhewn trunks, whose dry roots spilled over the ground like the trains of great robes. And along these columns was a stone ring which was inscribed with symbols and words unfamiliar to Nephis and Kugo, but from which they could glean symbols of thunder and clouds.

  “Blasted pagan barrow,” Kugo cursed as he saw the exit, blocked off by a great stone. He pressed his hand to the door, but then paused. This one skeleton had been enough trouble. But if the gateman was to believed, the hills may be swarming with them until dawn. Better to wait until then? Each of them had the same thought, but Moss was still missing; they had not found him in any part of the tomb. They would seek after him, even if it meant braving the hordes beyond the barrow.

  Kugo jut his copper club through the gap in the door and began to lever the way open until they could squeeze through, treasure and all. Outside, in the basin, it was still pitch black, though now some of the clouds had parted so that they could faintly see around them in pale moonlight. And upon the hills above them were men, clad in shadow, shambling through the hills. They had not stepped more than five feet from their barrow when a ghoul pounced from the darkness, pulling on Kugo’s gold-braided hair.

  “Argh!” he let out a shout that echoed through the basin.

  The two of them struggled for a while. Kugo kicked like a mule at it, but its fingers were interlaced in his hair. Nephis thrust the mote of fire she held against it, but it hardly reacted, for it felt no pain. Nephis hoisted the great clay jar over her head and brought it down on the foul creature. At last, it let go. But the weight of the jar was so great that she stumbled back. She slammed against a bony, lanky body. A tall ghoul with a face stuck to his skull had found her. It lunged at it, throwing its arms around her and pulling at her hands. She felt its dry mouth gnawing at her skull. Kugo knocked it over head and the two of them managed to sprint away, their treasures under hand. All except the golden brazier, which Kugo dropped in the fight, and let it lie at the entrance of the barrow.

  But as they ran, the shadowy figures in the moonlight noticed them and began to close in. Before they could even reach the edge of the barrows, where the basin began to slope up, Nephis and Kugo stopped. Before them was a shambling, interlaced wall of undead. They gnashed their teeth and pressed closer, like the tightening of a noose. Nephis recoiled, unsure what to do. Kugo readied himself in a low, guarding position. But there were too many of them. The ghouls fell upon them. Like a wave, they slammed into Nephis and Kugo. They scratched and bit and tore, pulling at Kugo’s hair and Nephis' arms. They made not a sound, but only gnashed their teeth and bore into them with their empty eyes. Nephis howled, screaming for help, but her cries were like mist in the wind. Kugo fought viciously, but was barely able to even stand. Nephis hid herself behind the clay jar, hoping to block some of the blows. And as she did, the ghouls tore at it, pulling the gold and coins from it. Kugo noticed something; those that did stopped their assault and gazed at the shimmering treasure.

  “Nephis!” he bellowed through the crowd, “Throw the jar away, your rings and necklaces too!”

  She did not even seem to hear him through all the terror. Kugo ripped the golden pins from his hair and tossed them into the crowd. The ghouls jumped after them, desperately protecting them. He threw his rings and necklaces, and jewels as far as he could, and then bat the wicked undead from Nephis. With all his might, he hurled the clay jar, and as it fell, its treasures spilled from it, glittering in the silver moonlight.

  “They want the treasures!” he shouted at her, Take them off!” And she stripped them off, lastly unhooking the golden lures that danced by her head and tossing them in the darkness.

  The ghouls still limpidly pursued them, but with so little vigor that the two of them were able to quickly escape. One, though, still doggedly follows them. Kugo looked down to his hand to see the copper cudgel still in his grip, and hurled it into the skull of the creature, who fell to the ground with a dull crunch.

  Nephis and Kugo retreated to their camp only to find it a mess. Their things were scattered across the grass. The knoll was scarred by dirt and gashes, Moss’ great footfalls clear to see. Even the great stone had been loosened, pushed slightly from its place. But most terrible of all was the trail of earth leading from the camp, like a plow had played the part of a plough.

  “Moss put up quite the fight,” Kugo noted.

  “Yes, I’d be proud, but we may not have the time,” she said, and began to pick up some of their things. Indeed, nearly everything was accounted for, except the white, stone idol and Kugo’s armor and weapons. She thought for a moment that the hunter’s journal had been taken as well, but by some miracle it had fallen a few steps in the dark, tossed aside in the fighting. It lay open to Kugo’s drawing of Moss. They followed the gash in the earth as quick as they could, Kugo sprinting as far ahead as the light of his lantern would let him.

  Neither of them knew how long they had been unconscious, though the embers of their fire were still warm, so it must have been the same night. They ran over hill and road until they came to a small grove of trees, where in they could see faint firelight. Both Kugo and Nephis extinguished their fire and crept closer.

  In a clearing, they saw Moss, kneeling in the circle, his arms behind him. Though nothing bound him, he did not move. Resting by him were three black cloaked men, pallid of skin and hairless, Sons of Barthus. Nephis and Kugo were as silent as mice. But one of them stood up and looked where they hid, his yellowing eyes locked upon them.

  “I know you are there, come out, Fair Lady Flores and Kugo of Ordo,” he commanded.

  Nephis looked to Kugo; his eyes were strained. He had no weapons, and they had managed to subdue even Moss. So what chance at fighting did he have? They both stepped out into the light of their campfire. They were as unnerving in appearance as Nephis remembered, great purple veins and sallow cheeks.

  “Where is the Reliquary of Desire?” the Son of Barthus demanded, pointing a spindly hand at them, though this one was covered in a splotchy, red rash.

  Both Nephis and Kugo froze. What did he mean? Moss managed to look up at them through great, pained movements. He opened his mouth slightly to speak, but he could not. He slowly shook his head. She saw that he was indeed bound by something, cotton twine laced with small charms. Nephis turned her gaze back to the wicked man.

  “Release Moss,” she demanded.

  “You are not in a position to bargain,” he said in a hollow voice. “Give us the lantern, and we will give you the Moss. Though we should keep them both, we are willing to trade.”

  And Nephis saw that one of them had a lame arm and foot, seeming crushed by something heavy and powerful.

  “We don’t have it,” Kugo answered.

  “Lies!” the Son of Barthus hissed. And then a brief glimmer came in his dead eyes. “Fair Lady,” he said to Nephis, “We will protect you from the terrors of your kidnapper, we will return you to your father’s house.”

  So it seemed the Sons of Barthus had heard the story, though the wrong one. “A generous offer, but you have been bound by a guardian and left me with this orc!” she answered. “Unbind my Moss, so I know you tell the truth.”

  “Worry not, we will guard you from the orc-bastard,” the Son of Barthus said and pulled from his pocket a wreath of green stems and black fruit, a wreath of nightshade, with a web of string weaving its center, binding a single bone. The Son of Barthus opened his mouth to chant a spell, the grass about him withering as he did. Nephis threw herself before Kugo.

  “Stop! Please!” she begged. Kugo had already stepped around her, preparing to rush him, but froze in his tracks at hearing her.

  “How curious,” the Son of Barthus commented. “How tight-knit you all seem. We had prepared to slay both of you, but the Moss traded himself for you,” he revealed. Moss hung his head low, resigning himself to his fate. “We promised we would not kill you if he became ours. So I cannot return your guardian to you, unless you trade with me,” he pressed his ultimatum.

  There was a silence as Nephis and Kugo bit their tongues. They would not give the location of the relic unless they were left with no other options. But it seemed that time had found them. Then an idea lit up Kugo’s eyes. “Fine. You win,” he said. “We’ll give you the reliquary.”

  Nephis’ shoulders slumped, but she did not protest; it wasn’t worth losing Moss.

  “Where did you hide it from us?” The Son of Barthus asked, “How did you?” he demanded.

  “We left it in the barrow you trapped us in,” Kugo lied. Nephis’ ears perked.

  “Lies! Lies!” The Sons of Barthus all chanted. “We scoured your things!” the speaker spat.

  “Do you think a sorcerer of the White Palace could not make hidden the visible?” Nephis boasted.

  And the Sons of Barthus were quiet.

  “You were too hasty,” Kugo played along, “And you left it with her. Had you not taken my weapons, we would have brought it with us. But it is safer with the dead than with you.”

  “But you’ve played us!” Nephis lamented in a nearly theatrical tone. “You’ve beaten us! We will give you the lantern,” she conceded.

  “Good,” the Son of Barthus said.

  “Only if you give us Moss,” she answered.

  “We will give you the Moss when we have the lantern,” he stipulated.

  And they led the Sons of Barthus, who dragged Moss behind them by some spell, all the way to barrows. Their group huddled in to avoid the ghouls, but aside from a few wayward scratches, they were mostly ignored. Kugo and Nephis noticed as they still plucked loose coins and gemstones, returning them to the barrow they were stolen from. Like ants, the undead went in and out of that barrow, bumping past the living with hardly a second thought, aside from the occasional swipe or nibble.

  The Sons of Barthus followed them into the barrow, keeping themselves closed off. Then, from the dark, something charged them, the warden, still fractured and damaged, rushed at them, its arms and legs now put back together. Nephis winced and Kugo prepared to dodge, when the speaker of the Sons of Barthus stuck out his hand and the nightshade wreath.

  Mill and powder, grain and flour. Like seeds in the bread, death begets new life.

  His strange words and foul speech echoed through the hallowed tomb. The warden twitched as if something inside of him broke in two, and he collapsed, slouching forward. Bits of him began to turn to dust, and the warden spilled over the floor. The Son of Barthus’ hand burst open, spitting and splattering across the room. His wrist was nothing more than sinew and blood, hanging from him like putrid capellini. He hardly reacted. “How fortunate you are, Fair Lady.”

  “Indeed,” she replied, but had to look away from the nub, so terrible was it, that she couldn’t hide herself from gagging.

  Kugo, on the other hand, grew ever more grateful that Nephis had spared him from the fate of the warden.

  They descended further in the barrow until they came to the brazier. Ghouls crowded all around it, watching it in quiet veneration. Nephis pointed to it, “There it is.” It shone in the firelight, reflecting it so that the room almost seemed bright. Like an idol, it stood on that shelf, dazzling and terrible.

  The Son of Barthus stepped towards it, to take it off the shelf. But Nephis blocked them. “First, you release Moss,” she demanded.

  “You will betray us,” he answered.

  “Surely there is a way we can work this out,” she bemoaned.

  The Son of Barthus thought for a moment. “We will stand between the lantern and you, and will unbind the Moss in another room,” he said.

  Nephis could not have written it better. “That is acceptable,” she said.

  And so, Nephis and Kugo, along with one other Son of Barthus, who stood next to Moss in the chamber across from the relic. Kugo returned his things in a rough sack, their backs turned to him as if nothing had happened between them. The black robed man chanted under his breath as he snipped off the charms. And Moss began to twitch and move, slowly rising to his feet. “I am sorry,” he bemoaned in a low and tragic voice.

  “Do not be,” Nephis said, “You saved us. Be proud.”

  “Indeed,” Kugo answered, “Few would cast themselves away like that to rescue a friend.”

  Then, the Son of Barthus took the brazier from the shelf and the ghouls began to shamble towards them, like water on a hill. Nephis and Kugo quickly slipped out of the room, silently ushering Moss with them, only walking never running. But once they stepped beyond the bounds, they sprinted away and up the basin slope, stretching their legs as far as they could. Once they were atop it, they looked down to see the horde of ghouls slowly making their way to the barrow entrance, like ants returning to their nest. The Sons of Barthus’ voices echoed from the tomb, chanting spell after spell, but the horde would not be dissuaded.

  They did not wait to see the aftermath and fled to their camp, where they threw everything into bags and ran from the town and barrows as far as their legs would take them.