Hewspear and Vendurro had warned me to bite my tongue, but I nearly ignored such sage advice and queried the captain about whatever poisonous past they shared. The timing seemed ideal, in that I’d just seen the siblings engage in some more verbal sparring, but the timing was equally terrible, in that I’d obviously irritated Braylar again, and his sister doubly so.
Would there ever be an opportunity to deftly weave it into conversation when he didn’t look ready to chew stones and spit the pieces at me?
Unlikely. Most unlikely.
As dusk approached, I wondered where we intended to make camp for the night. When we were in the Green Sea, we simply camped where we stopped, and little different on the road to Alespell. But having killed a large host of Hornmen in Alespell, and a small tower full of them not long after, we couldn’t possibly be sleeping just on the side of the road. Too dangerous. We had to turn off somewhere. The only question was where, and if the captain had selected the spot ahead of time. I supposed it was too much to hope we would find a small village that had an inn of some kind.
We headed off the main road, onto a much smaller rutted trail only wide enough to accommodate one wagon. I wondered what we would do if we encountered any traffic coming the opposite direction, but there was none. The track was overgrown and nearly as grassy as the wild areas around it. And there wasn’t any noise at all, besides the chirping of birds or the ever-present buzz and hum of insects, drawn to fresh flesh before being repulsed (somewhat) by the herbs strewn all over the wagon and hanging from the tack and harness.
A fox darted out of the brush, looked in our direction for a while, and then scampered across our path before disappearing on the other side.
When we finally made it around a small bend and saw a horseman standing in the middle of the track, I tensed, fearing it was a bandit, or a Hornman, but no one else even seemed surprised.
The Syldoon rode up to us and reported the site was clear. I wasn’t quite sure just how clear until we rounded the bend a bit further and came across the village. The most deserted village I had ever seen.
Judging by the fences that had fallen and the encroachment of weeds and grasping roots and other aggressive vegetation, it had been for quite some time. But what made it especially odd wasn’t the state of desertion, or the way the wilderness had sensed its opportunity and begun reclaiming the area as its own, but the fact that most of the structures looked solid and still in good repair. As we entered the outskirts of the village, I noticed several doorways open, windows as well. Peering inside as we passed, I saw a fair number of the usual items you would expect to encounter in any home-hints of chests, dressers, tables and chairs, rugs still on the wooden or dirt floor.
On the road to Highgrove University, heading there the first time, nothing but a frightened boy, I remember we came across a settlement that was equally abandoned, but it had clearly suffered the ill-use of whatever bandits or marauders had driven the inhabitants off. Buildings burned to the ground, everything that might have contained anything of value cracked open or shattered, other objects that were completely utilitarian broken or smashed out of spite or some vindictive lust. The entire village was ransacked. We’d hurried on, as it felt like the damage might have been done recently, and the thieves might still be prowling around.
But this was something altogether different. This place didn’t seem like it had been attacked. In some ways, it reminded me of the temple by the River Debt. But while those ruins had been foreboding, the area devoid of most sentient life, filled with a heavy spirit of desolation, it had the shimmering, endless, and horrible Godveil to explain why it had been forsaken, destroying the minds of any who ventured too close.
There was no obvious reason this village was utterly empty, or why it had not been looted. It was different from the temple, but no less eerie. It felt like all the inhabitants were spirited away right in the middle of whatever they’d been doing.
My mouth went dry and I fumbled for some wine before asking Braylar, “What happened here?”
We kept rolling along and he didn’t reply, only looked around the deserted village, trying to find something. Finally, he pointed at a plot of land behind one house that contained graves. Several, and of varying sizes. “The plague.”
“The…?” I looked everywhere at once, and the truth of it was suddenly so obvious it hurt. The place was so abandoned because people had tired of burying their own, and the survivors had moved on as quickly as they could, afraid to contract the same, or so overcome by the quiet destruction that had claimed so many they simply couldn’t remain. Maybe they even suspected their possessions were tainted, as so many had been left behind and left undisturbed.
That was why the place felt so haunted. It probably was.
“But… is it smart to stay here? Some physicians claim the plague runs its course in short order, but others mention the possibility that whatever causes it might be lying dormant, simply waiting for the fools to stumble in and startle it awake again. Is this… foolish? It feels foolish.”
Braylar gave one of those hard looks that made men exceptionally uncomfortable, me more than most. “We will be absolutely undisturbed for the night here, because fools believe as you do. I am far more worried about armed men hunting us than some dormant plague rising like a vengeful spirit. Is there anything else you wish to add? No? Very good.”
The community was a tiny hamlet and it didn’t take us long to reach the center of it, which is about where we stopped. Braylar guided the team of horses into a barn that had either been left open by the plague survivors or by his own men who had ridden here ahead of us. While most people likely avoided the village, he wasn’t taking any chances either. The rest of his men followed his lead and moved their horses and the other wagon inside, though it couldn’t house all of them, so several took their horses elsewhere.
Braylar lit a lantern, hung it from a hook, untethered Scorn and started tending to her, and I did the same with my own ignoble steed. My horse hadn’t been ridden during the day, so I was tempted to rush through it, but the captain’s steed hadn’t been worked any harder and he still treated her as if she had nearly been blown galloping the entire day, so I mirrored him as best I could. Even my horse looked at me as if I was being overzealous, but I wasn’t going to stop brushing until he did. Which seemed to take far longer than it should have.
When we were done and led the horses to some stalls, we unharnessed the team that had been pulling the wagon and gave them their due attention. Never having owned a horse and needing to care for one before accompanying Captain Killcoin, I was still somewhat surprised by just how much handling they required. I suppose I always imagined you simply rode until you were done riding and then got off.
Braylar was right-I could be something of a fool. I just hoped he was equally right about the plague no longer being in the empty village. I found myself breathing as shallowly as possible, with my heart beating like a startled hare, before realizing that if there was a danger it was likely too late. We were here. And would be for the night. If the plague would claim any of us, it had probably already chosen its victims and begun working our demise.
When we were finally done with the horses, I followed Braylar out of the barn and across the thoroughfare, over a small stone bridge over a dry streambed choked with branches and dried leaves from seasons past.
I thought he intended to stay at what appeared to be the manor house, home to whatever mayor had died or otherwise departed, but he kept walking.
Then Braylar stopped, swayed, reached out for the nearest wall and nearly missed it. I put my hand out, reluctant to grab him outright, but not wanting to fail to offer aid of some kind either. He rubbed furiously at his temples as he steadied himself against the wall, then gritted his teeth, nearly gnashing them, before his head lolled to the side. I was sure he was going to fall and did grab his arm, but he caught himself, shook me off, and slapped himself in the side of the face.