Another rider broke away from the main force to join them at the front. Ieduin turned his head, watching as Tofi Runecleaver rode up on his black horse, his heavy black cape billowing behind him. The iron collar and chain he always wore jingled slightly with every step of the horse. He rode straight up to the body, and then around it twice.
“Look at her eyes,” Tofi said as if he were lost in thought.
Ieduin didn’t want to, but he did. They looked like any other dead eyes to him. Empty, cloudy, lifeless.
“Why do the crows leave her eyes?” Tofi turned his horse around to look at them.
Good point.Ieduin had seen enough battlefields to know that crows and carrion feeders often went for those first, yet the birds seemed to be deliberately avoiding them.
“This corpse is spelled,” Tofi whispered. “They are watching.”
Ieduin shuddered. “Take her down.”
“No need.” Tofi sparked a flame that quickly consumed both the post and the body bound to it.
A second, green flame shot up in the center of the crossroads, making Ieduin’s horse rear, but the ethereal green fire did not burn away like the body. It remained, dancing in the center of the crossroads.
The necromancer dismounted and approached the fire carefully. “Why do you remain? What ties you to this place?”
“Master,” hissed the fire in a barely audible voice.
“Gods below,” Ieduin cursed and backed away.
Rixxis sucked in a breath. “What in the Judge’s name is happening?”
“This spirit is tethered to this plane by strong magic,” Tofi explained. “And she is not alone. There have been many. Something is keeping them here. A master. Another necromancer, perhaps? Tofi is unsure, and this spirit cannot speak freely.”
Ieduin swallowed. No one should be a slave, not even the dead. “Can you free her?”
The necromancer shook his head. “She is bound to a living master. To free the spirit, her remains must be destroyed. The necromancer master who holds her must have taken a trophy. Tofi will have to find her master. It is likely he hides among these bandits.” He snorted his disapproval.
“Great, so they’re not just well-armed and organized bandits, but now they have a necromancer.” Ieduin sighed. “This is bad.”
“It is worse than bad,” said Tofi, returning to his horse. “It means killing them will do you no good. Every body, every bone in this place is a potential new enemy. When the dead do not know rest, the living cannot know peace. We must find this necromancer, and quickly. Before these spirits go mad.”
Ieduin couldn’t suppress the second shudder that ran through him. Battling the living was one thing, but fighting the dead? What could kill a dead man?
“We’ll find him,” Ieduin promised, “and take care of these bandits.” They’d have to if they wanted to have a chance of winning this.
Every crossroads was the same. Another body, another spell, another trapped spirit. It seemed the bandit necromancer was using the dead to spy on the people of Greymark, watching them through their eyes. Destroying the bodies removed that advantage, at least, but Tofi claimed he could do nothing for any of the trapped spirits. They would remain tethered in place until the last of their remains were located and destroyed.
The more time they were trapped and unable to move on, Tofi said, the more likely they might go insane. “But these will be no mere vengeful spirits,” explained the necromancer as they watched another body burn. “Suffering and madness make demons of the dead, and demons do not hear reason. If that happens, Tofi cannot reach them.”
“And then what?” Rixxis asked. “How do we fight demons?”
“Demons aren’t real,” Ieduin scoffed.
Tofi’s head jerked toward him. “Oh, but they are, and if they come here, they will serve no master but their own hatred. They will feed and destroy all they touch, and you will need an army of mages just to combat a few.”
Rixxis and Ieduin exchanged a look.
Ieduin swallowed. This was the twelfth body they’d burned so far, and there were still many more miles to go. “And how many spirits are there trapped around Greymark?”
Tofi turned his head, watching the fire devour the body and the post. “Too many.”
They came upon the gates to the castle an hour before dusk. Timber walls had been erected, blocking the way forward.
Voices shouted and horns blared at their arrival. Great wooden gates groaned open, and they rode into the first thing to resemble a proper settlement in nearly a week. The courtyard beyond was rocky dirt, with wood steps leading up to the walls and towers nearby. People moved about rolling barrels, carrying wooden beams, or walking farm animals from one place to another.