 
## The Graves Crew and the Restless Dead

Kenneth McDonald

Kmcdonald4101@gmail.com

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 by Kenneth McDonald

Cover Credit: The cover image is adapted from _Allegory of Vanity_ by Antonio de Pereda (1632 - 1636). The image is in the public domain.

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Works by Kenneth McDonald

The Ogre at the Crossroads

The Graves Crew

The Graves Crew and the Restless Dead

Refugees of the Crucible

Powerless

Overpowered

Balance of Power

Soul Weapons

Wizard's Shield

Soul of the Sword

Wizard's Stone

Tales of the Soul Weapons

The Dwarf on the Mountain

The Colors of Fate

Black Shadows Gather

Green Hearts Weep

Red Vengeance Rising

Faded Yellow Dreams

Blazing White Stars

Shiny Golden Schemes

The Mages of Sacreth

The Labyrinth

Of Spells and Demons

Grimm's War

Grimm's Loss

Grimm's Love

Of Blood and Magic

The Godswar Trilogy

Paths of the Chosen

Choice of the Fallen

Fall of Creation

Daran's Journey

Heart of a Hero

Soul of a Coward

Will of a Warrior

Courage of a Champion

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Chapter 1

Looting the dead is a tricky business. The dead don't care, but they often leave behind friends who might look upon said looting as disrespectful, as if it's better to toss valuable goods into the ground rather than see them redistributed to folk who could make better use of them.

Graves thought about that as he leaned on his shovel and regarded the members of his crew. The battlefield stank, like they all did. The air was thick with various annoying insects that seemed particularly drawn to him.

The labor crews had arrived late yesterday while the trailing elements of the Duke's army were still visible in the distance. Marching off to glory, while the quartermaster corps—which included the merry rogues of Graves's crew—remained behind to clean up the mess.

The sun wasn't quite all the way up to its peak yet, but already it was a scorcher of a day, hot and humid. Graves reached up and with a grubby finger scratched the old scar that ran from the corner of his jawbone almost to his left eye socket. It always itched on days like this.

He turned and regarded the rows of holes he and his crew had made in the dirt. Others were working on trenches for the enemy dead, but custom and law required that the Duke's men got individual graves when they died. Graves didn't really care, although it was more work to make the separate holes. He figured when his time came, his body wouldn't care all that much what happened to it when he was done using it.

As he came around he saw one of the water boys approaching, grunting with the effort of lugging his bucket. A few of the diggers had already started toward him, but on seeing Graves they stepped back to let him go first. A small privilege, but Graves appreciated it. Even in a crew like theirs, respect was respect.

He drank deeply from the cup the boy offered. He entertained a brief fantasy of dumping the contents of the bucket over his head, imagining the relief it would provide. But he let that bit of idle musing go. The water wasn't all that cool anyway. He just hoped it was clean enough not to give all of them the shits that night.

The boy waited to see if he wanted more water, and grinned a gap-toothed smile up at him when Graves returned the cup. "Thanks, Carden," the crew leader said, covertly tucking a bent copper coin into the youth's ragged shirt. The boy's grin widened at that, and Graves returned it before he caught view of someone else approaching the battlefield. It was one of the clerks from Personnel, the division that oversaw the work of the labor crews and the other groups that trailed behind the fighting edge of the Duke's army.

The new arrival stopped well clear of the line of holes and the full force of the stink that hovered around them. "Ho, Graves," the clerk called out. "Lieutenant wants to see you."

"I'll be right there," Graves said, but the man was already turning away and retracing his steps back to the main camp over by the road. It was hardly cooler over there, despite the fact that it was closer to the forest that extended back from the road, but at least it offered some distance from the stench and vermin of the battlefield.

Graves considered washing up first but then decided not to bother. It wasn't like he was going to meet Ponzen's standards, clean or not, and he was just going to return to his work again afterwards anyway.

The Personnel wagon was set up on the edge of the camp, with a broad canvas awning attached to poles that swung out from the vehicle. Lieutenant Ponzen had set up his folding table and camp chair a short distance away, under a separate flap of canvas that he—or more likely his clerks—had attached to the low-hanging branches of a nearby tree.

The lieutenant didn't look up as Graves approached, or when he stepped up to the edge of the table. The young officer's uniform was perfect, the top button fastened under his chin despite the heat, the collars so starched that their edges looked like they could cut flesh. Graves could just make out the pale marks that ran up Ponzen's neck and along the right side of his jaw, the result of a childhood clash with scatterpox.

Graves didn't bother clearing his throat. He knew from experience that these meetings went faster if he just waited.

Ponzen continued writing in his ledger book for a while longer, then carefully wiped the tip of his pen and replaced the cap on his jar of ink before he looked up to acknowledge his visitor. "Graves," he said. "I have received reports that indicate that looting of our battle slain has been taking place since our arrival here."

"I don't tolerate that sort of thing in my crew, sir," Graves said. It was a fiction and both men knew it. The men of the labor crews did a lot of things when they weren't putting men in the ground, jobs like loading and unloading wagons, chopping wood, and building redoubts and supply depots for the army's convenience. But assumed under all those jobs was a habit of stealing everything the laborers could get their hands on that wasn't nailed down.

Ponzen took his book, flipped a few pages, and spun it around. He pointed a finger to an entry in a sea of marks. The contents of the page meant nothing to Graves, and by the smug look on the officer's face he knew it. "The quantities of material recovered from the fallen here are significantly below average," Ponzen said.

_Cutting into your profits, and those of the Major_ , Graves thought. But he only said, "Most of the soldiers that died here were from Low Town, in the capital. They didn't have much."

Ponzen quirked an eyebrow at that. "You can tell where a man came from by his corpse? Do they speak to you, old fellow?"

"In a matter of speaking, sir," Graves said. "You can tell from their teeth, and the shape their skin's in, marks they got before they came here, that is. And there's parts of their kit that's not army issue, personals and the like." He inwardly cursed himself at that last, realizing too late that he might have led the conversation down an unwelcome path by bringing up equipment.

Ponzen gave him a long, evaluative look. Finally he said, "You're a smart fellow, Graves. There are opportunities for smart men in this here army. Just be careful you don't get _too_ smart."

Graves nodded. "Yes, sir." The lieutenant held him with his gaze a few heartbeats longer then made a small gesture of dismissal. But as Graves started to turn he added, "Oh, I almost forgot. Major Carvis wants to see you. Immediately."

Graves bit back his instinctive retort. It was obvious that Ponzen had been saving that news for last to needle him. He made a gesture that wasn't quite a salute and left quickly, making his way toward the center of the main camp.

The camp was like a small town, with dozens of wagons and the associated lines of horses. The animals were tended by men who brushed their coats, checked their hooves, and repaired tack and harness that had broken under the stress of travel. Other men were gathered around or inside tents, trying their best to avoid the punishing heat of the day. The occasional woman wove past them, for the camp followers attached to the army traveled with the quartermaster corps as well. They had their own separate gathering of tents further back from the road, next to the stingy stream that provided the camp's supply of water.

Major Carvis's headquarters was impossible to miss. The Quartermaster's tent was a massive construction of canvas and linen, big enough that a single wagon was dedicated to the transport of it and its associated furnishings. Those furnishings included a large table, a writing desk, a comfortably padded chair, and a full-sized bed.

The front of the tent was open in a vain attempt to let in the non-existent breeze. One of the soldiers from the quartermaster corps' small security force stood on duty outside, sweating through his uniform tunic, but he knew Graves and let him pass after just a brief exchange.

Even seated behind his desk, it was obvious that Major Carvis was a big man. The extra five stone or so he carried on his frame strained his uniform and had given his features a certain softness, but his eyes were sharp and they missed nothing. Those eyes flicked over Graves as he came in, leaving him feeling as though he'd been weighed and measured down to the last ounce.

"Come in, Graves," Carvis growled, gesturing toward the table in the center of the tent. He got up ponderously, almost knocking a precariously balanced decanter off the edge of the desk as he jostled it. He paused to adjust his tunic then came over to face his visitor across the surface of the table. That surface was cluttered with maps and an assortment of reports, none of which held any particular meaning for Graves.

"I've got a problem," Carvis said.

Graves didn't say anything. He hadn't had a lot of interactions with Carvis, but he knew that the Major didn't appreciate interruptions.

Carvis picked up one of the parchments from the edge of the table. "I've received new orders from General Devers," he said. "Apparently the pursuit of the Baron's army is going better than expected. Unfortunately, that means our own supply lines are coming under increasing strain."

Graves met the Major's eyes, but said nothing.

"I've already issued orders to begin breaking down the camp," Carvis continued. "We'll remain here tonight but need to be ready to move out early when the supply train from the capital arrives. I mean to be several leagues north of here by the time that the sun sets tomorrow evening."

"I know that your crew has a big job over at the battlefield, Graves, but it can't be helped. I need you to speed things up over there."

Graves's thoughts flashed reflexively over to the main camp, and the company of men there that outnumbered his crew by a factor of four to one. In particular the squad of soldiers that the Quartermaster had attached to his corps didn't have much to do at the moment, especially considering that those brave worthies hadn't yet fired a shot in anger during the entire war to date. But suggesting such a thing would obviously belie Lieutenant Ponzen's earlier assessment of his intelligence.

Carvis was shooting a hard look at him and Graves realized he'd let his silence go on too long. "Well, did you hear what I said, Graves?"

"Sorry, sir," Graves quickly replied. "I was just thinking of ways we could, ah, speed things up. I'll have my crew redouble their efforts. We'll work through the night if need be, but we'll get the job done."

From the look of disappointment that flashed across the Major's face Graves knew he'd guessed right; he'd just preempted what Carvis had been about to say. But the Quartermaster recovered quickly. "Excellent. And if you can provide some men to help load the wagons in the morning, that would be quite helpful. Dismissed."

* * * * *

Chapter 2

Graves looked around as he made his way back out through the camp. If Carvis had in fact issued his orders to start breaking down the camp, it didn't look like the men were in a hurry to implement it. He caught a good whiff of the lunch being started by the cooks and nearly diverted that way before he caught himself. It would be hours yet until the gravediggers got their midday meal, and he didn't feel right taking advantage of a privilege that his men lacked. He made a mental note to pull in a few favors to get them something extra for their supper, as it would be a long day—and night to come, apparently—and they weren't going to be happy about the news he was bringing back.

He was thinking of ways to twist the initiative he'd been able to grab by preempting Carvis's orders when he caught a glimpse of someone approaching through the fringe of trees that separated the outer edge of the primary camp from the battlefield.

"Graves? That you?"

The speaker was maybe a decade younger than Graves, though exposure to the sun and elements had given him the same weathered look common to all the laborers. The sun wasn't in his eyes as he approached, but he squinted intently as he peered at the leader of the digger crew. That alone would have identified him even if Graves hadn't been able to make out the man's face.

"Yeah, it's me," he said. "Something the matter, Squints?"

"Something's happened," the other man said. "Some trouble over by those lads we put into the ground yesterday."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Someone's been messin' with the graves. I didn't get a good look, before Old Vanek sent me to find you."

Graves nodded. It was sort of a joke among the crew just how bad Squints's vision was, but he was a solid worker and a good man to have at your back in a scrape. "Well let's go find out what's going on," Graves said, adjusting his stride as the other man fell in beside him.

They had to navigate around some scattered bushes as their path cut through the edge of the woods, but it was nothing that seriously hindered them. The entire area around the battlefield had been trampled clear by the two armies that had gathered to shed their blood in this place. The battle had actually been a series of engagements centered on a broad meadow that extended back from the curve of the road. The road itself continued to the west before it resumed its way north, veering around the obstacle of the Dun Hills. Graves had heard that the battle had lasted three days, the final bloody clash in the meadow coming just two days before the column of the quartermaster corps had arrived on the scene to set up its staging camp. The site they were headed to now was the location of the preliminary clashes, where the leading vanguards of both armies had met before pulling back to regroup with their main bodies. The gravediggers had started there due to the nasty effects of time on the older corpses. They'd put thirty men in the ground before the sun had set on their first day at the battlefield.

This wasn't the first time this spot had served as the site of a battle. The crews had turned up old bones and fragments of broken and rusted metal in their digging, and there were ancient mounds in the forest that might have served the same purpose as the mass graves that the laborers were digging for the enemy dead. When they'd first arrived a few of the men from the main camp had slipped off into the woods to look for buried treasure or other valuable trinkets, but no one had found anything interesting as far as Graves had heard. There were also some old ruins close against the hills on the far side of the battlefield, about a mile away from the road, but the fighting hadn't come anywhere near them and none of Graves's crew had had time to go off exploring.

As they emerged from their brief dip into the forest Graves could see the long line of plots and the small group of men gathered around one near the far end. He recognized Barek, half a head taller than the others, standing with Vanek and a few men from his friend's crew.

And, he noted with an anticipatory twist in his gut, Lieutenant Ponzen.

As he approached he could hear Ponzen's familiar tone as he addressed the men. It wasn't until Graves had almost reached them that he recognized that the target of the officer's ire was Keev. The slender, reedy man looked out of place with the other members of the crew, though he'd been with the quartermaster corps almost as long as Graves had and his clothes were just as sweaty and dirty as the rest. Keev was bearing the brunt of the officer's tirade and his eyes flicked to Graves with relief as the pair reached the disturbance.

"What's going on here?" Graves asked.

Ponzen wheeled on him. "That's what I've been trying to figure out," he said without a preliminary greeting. "Your men seem remarkably unaware of events that transpire under their very noses."

"It's a big battlefield," Vanek said.

Ponzen turned his eyes on him. Vanek was the oldest man there, though his arms were still corded with the muscle of a man who still put in a full day's work every day. He didn't flinch from the officer's hard look, and after a moment Ponzen turned back to Graves. There wasn't much that could rattle Vanek, and there was something in his manner that quietly encouraged people not to mess with him.

Graves took advantage of the distraction to get a good look at what had caused the disturbance. The plot the men were gathered around had been partially excavated, the packed earth scattered. It almost looked like an animal had gotten into it, but the lieutenant's presence suggested another kind of problem.

"Keev, what happened here?" Graves asked.

The thin digger looked nervous, and his eyes flicked between Graves and Ponzen before he responded. "The body's been taken."

"There are tracks," Ponzen elaborated, pointing toward some marks on the far side of the grave. "Whoever it was, they took the body off that way." He gestured vaguely toward the woods that resumed on the far edge of the clearing, further away from the road and the camp."

"But why?" Graves asked, talking more to himself than to the others.

"Maybe t'was a relative, somebody looking to claim one of their own," Squints suggested.

"Maybe it's a collector," Barek said. "One o' them necromancers."

Ponzen gave the big man a withering stare that indicated what he thought of that notion. "The reason for this intrusion is not relevant. The man that was buried here was a soldier in the army of the Duke. We will not tolerate desecration of their resting places."

"All right," Graves said. "Vanek, take two men and..."

"I would rather that you see to this matter personally, Graves," Ponzen interrupted.

Graves only missed a beat as the eyes of his men shifted to him. "Squints, Keev, Barek, you're on me."

"Meaning no disrespect, sir," Squints spoke up, drawing Ponzen's attention around to him. "But this had to have happened last night. Whoever took the body could be miles away by now."

The look on Ponzen's face suggested he hadn't considered that, but the doubt quickly faded. "I don't think so," he said. "I believe you will find the trail leads back to our camp." The way his eyes swept across the area suggested he included the gravediggers in his general indictment, before they settled again on Graves. "Find me the perpetrators, Graves, and I will see that the proper example is set."

Ponzen was already starting to turn when Keev piped, "Shouldn't we, ah, have a couple of soldiers with us?"

The lieutenant's look was answer enough, but Graves quickly interjected, "We'll be fine. We'll bring him back, sir." He waited until the officer was out of earshot before he said, "All right, Keev, what's really bothering you about this?"

"I... I don't know, I just... I got a bad feeling about this."

"You jump at your own shadow," Barek said. "It's just a couple of grave-thieves is all."

"There's the tracks," Vanek said.

At that Graves came around the disturbed plot and took a closer look at the marks that Ponzen had indicated earlier. There wasn't much to see, especially since the tracks left by the diggers the day before were still fresh, but after a moment he spotted what the older man had found.

"Bare feet," Graves said. "Looks a little unsteady."

"That's what I mean," Keev said. "It looks..." he trailed off.

"What are you saying?" Squints asked. "You trying to say the deader got up and walked off on his own?"

"Ha, that'd be a bloody feat!" Barek chimed in. But his face had grown suddenly pale.

"There have been times when a guy we thought was well and truly dead still had a spark of life in him," Graves said. "Even days after a fight, after the medics and the priests have come and gone, we find them. Nothing strange about that. But this is different. Even if by some mischance we did put a man in the ground still breathing, the earth would smother him right quick, even as shallow as Barek puts 'em."

"Hey, I figure they don't care, so why should I?" Barek said.

"You'd care if an animal dug them up," Squints said.

Barek looked willing to turn it into an argument, so Graves quickly stepped between them. "Look. It's likely whoever dug our friend up took his shoes off for some reason. Maybe he didn't want the tread to give him away, eh?"

"Maybe because he had army-issue boots," Vanek suggested, picking up the thread.

"Right," Graves returned. "So we track him down, find out who did this before others get the same idea. Barek, run over to the tool cart and get a couple of pick handles, enough for all four of us. And draw a couple of canteens, in case this wild goose chase ends up being not quite as simple as the lieutenant thinks."

"Why do I have to do it?" Barek asked.

"Because I told you to," Graves said. He held the bigger man's stare for a long moment, until Barek finally shrugged and headed off.

"See if you can find more of those tracks," Graves said to Squints and Keev. The two nodded and headed off across the clearing, though it was pretty clear that the half-blind digger wasn't going to accomplish much on that task. "You know that new guy on my crew?" Vanek asked. "Rajek?"

Graves gave a snort. "The one that got sent down to us for punishment detail?"

"Yeah. He spent some time in the Scouts, might be of some use following those tracks."

"Okay. Send him over, let him know what we're about."

"Will do. Heard you had a chat with the Major."

"Yeah." Graves briefed him on his encounter with Carvis, and the repercussions of the new orders for their crews. "Boys aren't going to like it," Vanek said. "We thought we'd have a couple more days here, at least."

"Can't be helped," Graves said. "You can wait until I get back to tell them, but I thought you'd like to know. We can cut some corners, but we'll need to make at least a show of working into the night."

"Yeah, yeah," Vanek said. "I'll let my boys know, maybe we can make a good dent before nightfall."

"On the plus side, looks like we'll be doing some loading work, once the supply wagons get here."

The old man allowed a slight grin at that; fingers could get a little sticky on that kind of detail. "Right." He let his gaze drift out toward the forest. "What do you think you'll find out there?"

"Honestly? Nothing. But we still need to look, in case Ponzen's right."

"Keep an eye on Barek, he'll be happy to find a shady corner of forest for a nap."

"Don't worry, he'll make up for the missed half-shift when he gets back."

"Speak of the devil."

They turned as the big man came trudging back through the fringe of forest. He had the pick handles and canteens tucked under his arm, but that wasn't stopping him from gnawing on a turkey bone as long as his forearm. He stopped when he realized that Graves and Vanek were both looking at him. "Eh?"

"I hope you brought enough for everyone," Graves said dryly.

"What? I was lucky to scrounge this."

"Never mind. Let's get going."

"I'll find Rajek and send him your way," Vanek said.

* * * * *

Chapter 3

The forest was quiet. It was almost startling how quickly the sounds of the army camp and the workers still laboring on the battlefield faded behind them. Even though they'd only traveled a few hundred yards from the site of the disturbed grave, it was as if they'd entered a different world.

The canopy above offered some relief from the heat, but it didn't do anything about the bugs. If anything the clouds of gnats swarmed around them in even greater numbers, drawing frequent curses from Barek as the small company made their way deeper into the woods.

They came to a patch of exposed earth in the lee of a tree that had fallen not too far back in the past. Rajek paused and knelt to examine the ground for signs of their quarry. For a few long moments he bent low and peered at the dirt like a scholar trying to puzzle out an ancient text. "Hmm," he said.

"What do you see?" Squints asked.

"Dirt," the other man replied. "Leaves, some rocks. Rather more animal shit than you might expect."

Barak let out a wild snort, but Graves was already finding himself annoyed at the soldier's sense of humor. Rajek seemed to be an easygoing sort, offering no complaint when Graves had told him what they were looking for. He'd only been with Vanek's crew for a couple of days, and his hands were already swollen with the telltale blisters of a new digger.

"What about our thief?" Graves growled in an authoritative tone.

"He definitely came this way," Rajek said as he rose. "Something strange, though. He seems to have found his footing. The tracks earlier in the clearing were unsteady, almost like he was drunk."

"He's carrying a body," Squints pointed out.

"Yeah, that could be it," Rajek said. But he glanced back down at the ground again as he brushed off the knees of his trousers.

"We're not going to find him jawing about here," Barek said. "Let's go get this bastard so we can get back and get some lunch."

"You already had that turkey leg," Squints said.

"I'm surprised you noticed that," Barek shot back.

"I smelled it. A challenge that was, given your natural odor."

Barek opened his mouth for a retort, but Graves quickly said, "All right, let's move out. And shut your bloody mouths, or our thief will hear you coming a league off."

They resumed their march, Rajek in the lead to check the path before their footsteps marred the tracks. Soon the trail began to bend, but instead of turning back toward the camp as Ponzen had predicted the curve led in the other direction, around the edge of the forest toward the ruins that were nestled where the woods gave way to rising hills. Graves had only caught a few glimpses of the ruins during his work earlier. It didn't look like there was much to them, but there might be enough intact stonework to offer a hiding place for their grave-robber.

Rajek interrupted Graves's musings by stopping and pointing something out to them. The others quickly saw what had alerted the scout: a tree with sagging branches that swept across their path ahead. One of those branches had clearly stood in the way of their thief, for there was an obvious break that had left a jagged dagger of splintered wood jutting out from the gnarled trunk.

Barek walked over to take a closer look. He held up an arm so they could see that the severed branch had been at least as thick as his wrist. "Snapped off," he said.

"Maybe he was getting tired of carrying the body, and decided to make a travois," Squints said.

"If so, he changed his mind," Keev said. He reached into the bushes just beyond the tree and drew out a long branch that matched the broken stump. He hefted it with some difficulty and stepped on the end, trying to bend it. He gave it a good tug but it only gave a little. "How'd he manage to break it?"

"Maybe he had some friends meet up with him," Squints suggested.

Graves glanced over at Rajek, who was examining the ground nearby. From the look on the scout's face it didn't look like he would agree with that theory. "It doesn't matter," Graves said. "Come on, I think we're getting close to the ruins. If he's not hiding there we probably won't catch him, but he might have tried to loop the other way around the battlefield to get back to the road."

"That's a long way to go carrying ten stone of dead meat," Barek said.

"All the more reason to press on quickly," Squints noted.

They did continue, and within another hundred yards or so the forest began to thin marginally and they could see the first signs of the ruins ahead. The meadow that had hosted the final clash between the two armies came into view again on their right through the fringe of trees, though they were too far away to see any of the laboring crews. Graves guessed that they were maybe a mile from the camp, though at least it would be an easier walk back than the circuitous route their quarry had led them on thus far.

There wasn't much to the ruins at first, just some crumbled remnants of stone structures that were almost indistinguishable from natural features. Graves had no knowledge whatsoever of the history of the region, how old this place was, or what purpose it might have once served. It clearly must have been centuries at least, for the landscape had obviously had plenty of time to reclaim the site. Weeds pushed up through cracked fragments of stone, and in places sizable trees rose from what might have once been the interior of buildings. As they passed through the outskirts their boots crunched on broken flagstones that might have been the remains of a road or paved pathway. Any remnant that might have identified the people who had once occupied this place had long since faded away.

They found a few indications that they were not the first to have come here. They passed stone blocks that had been marked with graffiti, including some crude charcoal illustrations that looked recent and from their content had to have been made by soldiers. They found the remains of a campfire in one of the shells, but Rajek quickly reported that it was weeks old.

The interior precincts of the ruins were in slightly better condition, with partially intact walls that rose as high as their waists in some places and recognizable foundations that marked the outlines of specific structures. The graffiti and crude marks they'd encountered earlier faded away, along with any other indications of recent visitation.

"I... I don't like this place," Keev said. "I've got a bad feeling."

"You're full of those today, you superstitious asshole," Barek said. But Graves could see that the big man was pale, and the pick handle he clenched in white fingers trembled slightly.

"Are you sure he came this way?" Squints asked.

"I think so," Rajek said.

Barek rounded on him. "You think so? I thought you were supposed to be a scout?"

"Umm... I think they can hear you two back at camp..." Keev offered tentatively, but both men ignored him as Rajek rounded on Barek. He didn't have a pick handle, but his hand dropped meaningfully to the handle of his knife. "You think it's easy to track someone over bare stone, you stupid ox? Maybe you'd like to try it!"

Graves was already moving forward to intervene before either man could take the confrontation further, but Squints interrupted with a raised hand. "Quiet! Do you hear that?"

They all fell silent, listening. There was something, a soft rustling, almost like a distant breeze. Except that the air was utterly still.

"Come on," Graves said into the lingering silence. His voice was a bit shakier than he wanted, but he shook his head angrily and stepped forward. "We're here, we're going to find that bastard. The sooner we get him, the sooner we can go back."

The other men shared a look but they followed him as he started forward once more.

Up ahead Graves could see a copse of scattered trees, as if the ruins were interrupted by a park or other open space. Through that wooded fringe he could just make out what looked like a mostly-intact building. The sense of dread that had come over them all seemed to be coming from that place, or at least that was how it felt to Graves. He was starting to understand why neither of the armies had taken advantage of this place when they'd been maneuvering for position leading up to the recent decisive battle. These ruins were... _creepy,_ and he was starting to hear whispers in the back of his mind that were evocative of Keev's earlier misgivings about the missing body.

He was so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that he almost didn't hear Rajek's shout. But when he turned around he saw his companions move excitedly toward the breached front of the nearby buildings. The gap in the entry was big enough for a cart to pass through, but even if that hadn't been the case the remaining walls were easily low enough to vault without straining anything.

But as Graves went over to join them he saw that there had been enough stone left to conceal the body.

There was little mistaking it for anything other than their missing corpse. It was lying face-down on the crumbling floor of the structure, surrounded by low mounds of fist-sized stones and smaller debris. But Graves could recognize the rags it wore as the remnant of one of the Duke's uniforms. The flesh that peeked out from underneath was gray and mottled and already well on its way to gruesome with decay. Oddly there wasn't much of a stink, though it had to have been lying there for hours.

"Where's the thief?" Squints asked, his face twitching in his namesake manner as he tried to peer into the surrounding ruins.

"Who cares?" Barek said. "We got the body, now we can go back."

Graves shot a look at Rajek, who started pacing around the body in a slow arc. "I don't see any obvious signs," he said. "But like I said, it's easy not to leave marks on bare stone."

"Look at his feet," Keev said.

They all looked. At first Graves didn't see what he was getting at. The corpse's boots had been removed, of course. A uniform was one thing, especially if it bore gashes and bloodstains, but boots were too valuable to leave on a dead man. But then he realized that was the point. The dead man was barefoot, and they could all see the dirt that caked his swollen feet.

For a dozen heartbeats they all just stared at him. Finally Graves said, "All right, let's get him and get out of here."

"I don't want to touch that," Barek said.

"Fine. We'll use Squints' idea, rig a travois. We passed a couple of smaller trees in the outer ruin that looked like they could serve. Rajek, you go with Barek, bring back a few long branches that will bear his weight."

"We're just going to... stay here?" Keev asked.

"You can go with them if you want," Graves said. "But I'm not letting this body out of my sight until we dump it back in its hole."

* * * * *

Chapter 4

The camp of the digger crew was set off a good ways from the rest of the army, not far from the edge of the battlefield where they'd labored all day. That labor was still going on, despite the fact that the sun had set and the stars had come out on a dark, moonless night. Men could be seen digging trenches and moving bodies in the light of torches that formed haloes of brightness within the black of the night.

Graves took a look at those flickering points as he emerged from his tent and rose to his full height. His muscles protested at the motion. He would have preferred to go right back into his tent and collapse on his bedroll, but he was going to have to go out and put in another shift later to spell Vanek's boys. The two crew leaders had worked out a schedule so that it would appear to the Major or anyone else watching that the diggers were putting in a ferocious, all-out effort, while in fact only a fraction of the crews would be working at any given time. Many of the graves they dug that night would be shallow even by Barek's standards. There was little worry that animals would disturb them, for those hasty graves would not be concealing corpses. But it wasn't like the dead were going to complain when they were dumped unceremoniously in the woods for the scavengers to pick at. Even with such shortcuts it was unlikely that any of them would be getting a good night's sleep that night. The Duke and the Baron had left over two hundred dead men here altogether, a testament to the intensity of their argument.

For the moment Graves turned to the campfire and the men seated around it. His men, for the most part. Squints and Keev were talking quietly—no doubt about what had happened that afternoon. Barek looked sullen, squatting on a rock on the far side of the dancing flames. Sorles and Dalfor were on cooking duty, the former adding a fresh batch of sliced vegetables to what was left of the stew while the pale-skinned Amborian was grilling up griddle cakes—searing them black, it looked like—on a metal plate balanced on the edge of the flames.

A shadow materialized out of the darkness, and Graves started before the firelight revealed the newcomer as Rajek. He was still jumpy from the afternoon's adventures, it seemed.

"What's up?" Graves asked.

Rajek reached up and scratched his neck. "Ah, Old Vanek told me that I should eat with you guys, since I missed so much of his crew's shift this afternoon. Figure you guys are going back out, eh?"

There were a few grumbles around the fire at that, but Graves nodded. "Grab a plate," he said. "We've already eaten. Or at least most of us are done," he amended as Barek reached out and pilfered a griddle cake from Dalfor's stack. The Amborian hissed at him but was too late to stop the theft before the big man stuffed the entire thing into his mouth.

Rajek came forward and accepted a bowl from Sorles. "Might be some raw bits in there," the digger said, indicating the stew.

"My stomach doesn't care," Rajek said, adding a griddle cake on top. "Feels like I just finished a twenty mile march in full pack, and fought a battle at the end."

"Welcome to the glorious brotherhood of the quartermaster corps," Dalfor said, popping a fresh glop of cornmeal mush onto the griddle.

"Heard a rumor that you guys had some whiskey," Rajek said.

"You should know better than to believe rumors, coming from the ranks and all," Barek said.

"My nose tells me that there might be some truth to that rumor, and my nose never lies," Rajek declared.

"Graves got it for us," Keev said. "But it's all gone."

"Ah, I see," Rajek said. "Every man for himself, eh?"

"We're our own brotherhood," Graves said. "We look out for each other in the crews, since nobody else does. You stay with us a while, you'll find that out."

"Fair enough," Rajek said. "So, our deader staying in his hole this time? Saw the Lieutenant put a guard out tonight."

There were a few mumbles around the circle, but no one offered an answer to the question. "I get it," Rajek said. "Not the ideal topic of conversation on a dark night." He drew his coat tighter around his body and leaned in closer to the fire. "So what's you guys' story?" he asked around a mouthful of cake. He nodded across the fire toward Barek. "How 'bout you, Barek? How come a big guy like you ain't in the army?"

"He could never learn to march," Squints said. "It requires being able to tell your feet apart."

"Har, har," Barek said, throwing the scrap of cake he had left at the other man. It bounced off Squints's chest and landed in his lap, and quickly vanished into his mouth. "You're hardly one to talk, _sergeant_."

Rajek gave the near-sighted digger another look. "You were in the army?"

Squints seemed to fold in upon himself, but Graves interrupted by clearing his throat significantly. "In this crew we figure a man's got a right to his own past," he said.

"Fair enough," Rajek said again. "So tell me, then, how does all this work? I mean, I know you guys— _we_ guys, we're part of the quartermaster corps, but it doesn't seem like the crews are _really_ part of the army, no offense."

"Like we'll take offense at not being part of _that_ crew," Barek said with a snort.

"We're beneath everybody," Dalfor said. The way he said suggested he took a certain pride in the status. "They even created a special rank just for us, 'sub-private.' Lower than everybody."

"What about you, boss?" Rajek asked, glancing up over his shoulder at Graves, who remained standing at the edge of the circle.

"He's a sub-captain," Barek said with a snort. "That means he's outranked by everybody in the army, 'cept for us."

Laughter traveled around the circle. "I'm a corporal," Rajek said. "I guess that makes me your superior officer, eh?"

"Whatever you were out there doesn't matter," Squints said. "When you're digging, you're one of us." The earlier laughter faded, replaced by serious nods.

Rajek nodded as well, then looked back again. "So what about you, Graves? Isn't that name sort of, ah, spot on? Given what you do?"

There were a few more knowing chuckles around the circle at that question. "Don't bother," Dalfor said. "There's a pot of ten silvers for whoever learns his real name."

Graves shot a harsh look his way but then gave up and grinned. "I've been digging holes for a lot of years now. Will probably keep doing it until I'm ready for my own. It's who I am, and that's that."

"What about you, new guy?" Barek challenged. "Heard you got sent to us from the shooting army on punishment duty, but haven't heard the reason. You get caught buggering one of the water boys or something?"

Rajek laughed. "Nope. I stole a bottle of wine."

"That's all?" Barek asked. "I've stolen plenty of bottles of wine."

"And beer, and spirits, and smokes, and rations," Squints added. "There was that whole pig that one time. Damn near ate the whole thing, you did. Would have, if'n we hadn't found you."

"Aye, that was something," Barek said wistfully.

"You sound like an accomplished thief," Rajek said. "But I doubt you've stolen a bottle of wine from Colonel Maresh."

There were a few admiring sounds from around the circle. "Old Hard-Ass himself?" Dalfor asked. "Surprised your head isn't on a pole somewhere."

"It was a close thing," Rajek said. He leaned forward over the fire, letting the light play over his features as he warmed to his now-attentive audience. It was the perfect crime," he said. "I didn't have no help, no co-conspirators to spill the beans. Planned it all out. There were no witnesses. I drank it in the woods alone, buried the bottle afterward, was perfectly cool when I made it back to camp, even had a bit of wyrmwillow to chew to mask the scent on my breath."

"If it was so perfect, how'd you get caught?" Barek asked.

"Pride, foolish pride. I kept a souvenir. The cork."

They all laughed, and even Graves smiled. "It was a fine Davarian red, ten years aged," Rajek said. "It was worth it," he added, to renewed laughter.

"Sounds a little far-fetched to me," Sorles said, grabbing a flask to add more water to his stew.

"All true, every word," Rajek said. "Got the stripes to prove it," he added, gesturing toward his back. "You can ask around if you want, I'll be here a while. They gave me a month of this duty before I can go back to my unit."

"That's quite a story," Squints said.

"I think so," Rajek said. He glanced back at Graves again. "Worth a drink?"

Graves held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Give him a drink."

At that Squints produced a half-empty bottle from under his coat. He handed it around the circle to Rajek, who grinned and took a deep swig. "Welcome to the brotherhood of the diggers," Barek said.

* * * * *

Chapter 5

Graves woke up exhausted, feeling as if he'd barely laid his head down on the folded cloak that he used for a pillow. It was still dark outside, and he nearly let himself drop back into sleep before he heard something. It wasn't a single definable sound, but rather a collection of sounds, a distant rumble of disturbance that had him rising quickly in alarm.

Habit had him pulling on his coat and boots before he stepped outside. His rank, such as it was, merited him his own tent, so he didn't need to worry about stumbling over someone else in the dark.

When he finally emerged into the night he hardly had a better view of what was happening. The other tents were just vague outlines around the camp, the fire pit at its center just a pale glow of embers. A thin fog had risen in the direction of the forest, masking all but the dark shafts of some of the nearer trees. The battlefield itself seemed quiet; the torches that had been out there with Vanek's crew were not visible. Maybe it was later than he thought, the cold and quiet hours of early morning when nobody with any sense stirred.

But _someone_ was stirring, he thought as he turned in a slow circle to collect his bearings and get a look around. The sounds he'd heard had come from the main army camp. The trailing edges of the adjacent woods blocked a clear view in that direction, but he could see lights, the torches or lanterns that regulations required. But the sounds that continued from that direction did not sound like the quartermaster crews stirring to their morning labors.

As if to punctuate that thought the loud crack of a gunshot shattered the night. Graves jumped, the night thankfully concealing the motion. The other members of his crew were starting to emerge from their tents as well.

"What's going on?"

"Is it a raid? The Baron's men?"

"Likely some idiot sentry saw a rabbit..."

"Quiet!" Graves said, cutting over the growing babble. The diggers all fell silent and the sounds grew more distinct, shouts interrupted by the loud metallic clangor of a signal bell.

"There's definitely fighting going on," Squints said.

"We're not going to see anything from here," Rajek said. In the dark Graves couldn't tell if the soldier was eager or reluctant.

"Torches," Graves said. Immediately a few men went to gather some of the pitch-soaked brands they had prepared for night work.

"Won't that let them see us?" Keev asked.

"Maybe, but we need them so we can see," Dalfor said as he thrust one of the brands into the remains of the fire. A brief flash of glowing embers rose as he prodded the still-warm interior of the pit. "Well, most of us," he added with a nod toward Squints.

At first the torch didn't catch, but after a moment it flared to life with a rush of flame. The light pushed back the darkness, showing the faces of the diggers gathered around the circle of the camp. The light revealed the members of Graves's crew... and one other.

None of them were able to react before a shadowy figure on the edge of the camp stepped forward and grabbed hold of Sorles from behind. The veteran digger had the same work-hardened frame as the rest of them, but he was lifted off his feet and flung to the ground as if he'd weighed nothing. Stunned by the unexpected assault, the other members of the crew could only watch as the attacker bent over the struggling figure and drove both its hands up to their wrists into the man's belly. Sorles let out a bloodcurdling scream as blood flashed up and the gory twists of his guts erupted from the ruptured flesh.

"Gods!" someone screamed.

Sorles's attacker looked up. The torchlight revealed its face. It was a human face, but even with the dirt caking its features it was instantly clear that there was no life in the black sockets of its eyes, or in the sagging gray flesh that dangled from its skull. Its jaw hung open and a sick sound issued from its throat, an empty gurgle that sent a lance of pure terror through each of the gathered men.

For the span of two heartbeats the diggers could only stand there and stare at the horror that stood with its bloody fists buried in the guts of a comrade who had been intact and vital just moment before.

Finally Graves yelled, "Get it off him!"

It was as if his words shattered the spell holding them paralyzed. Rajek ran forward, holding a torch that he hadn't had a chance to light. He smashed the wooden stave across the thing's chest, trying to knock it away from its victim.

The blow landed hard. The stem of the torch was a solid piece of wood, thick enough that it might have cracked a rib with the soldier's strength behind it. But the loud snap that filled the camp was only the sound of the torch breaking, the pitch-soaked head falling uselessly away into the dark. The thing—"man" did not seem to apply—drew out one hand from Sorles's belly and swung at Rajek before he could recover. The sweeping arm only caught him a glancing blow, but it knocked him off his feet. He landed hard on the ring of stones that surrounded their fire pit and screamed as the impact shattered his arm.

Sorles let out a fresh sound of horror as the monster's movements pulled another hunk of his insides out of his body. Blood spurted from his lips and his legs kicked wildly but uselessly at the ground. The creature continued to stand over him, as if trying to protect its prize.

Graves rushed forward. He was holding a shovel he didn't remember picking up. The creature pivoted toward him, but slowly, pulling Sorles apart as it turned. Graves let out a guttural sound and swung his weapon at it. The shovel caught it on the side of its body, ripping a gash across its stomach. A rotting, vile mess of innards poured out from the opening, a grisly echo to what it had done to Sorles moments ago. The blow would have killed a normal man, but the thing just reached out and smacked Graves across the chest. He felt the air blasted from his lungs as he was flipped over onto his back. For a moment all he could see was the night sky above, the stars partially obscured by a faint haze of clouds.

Then his view was filled by the creature as it loomed over him. A scream of terror froze in his throat as it bent and reached out with a blood-soaked hand for his throat.

* * * * *

Chapter 6

Graves thought he was dead. All he could see was the face of Sorles as his guts were torn open, superimposed upon the hand that grew huge as it reached for him. Its fingers were like bony nubs from which the flesh had sloughed away at the tips. He could feel his bladder give way as those white points came down, and he felt an incongruous moment of embarrassment that others would see that he'd pissed himself when they went to bury him.

But a scant moment before that claw reached him the creature suddenly shuddered, then toppled over. Graves reared up, then flinched back as something slammed down hard onto the thing's neck. For a moment it struggled as if trying to get up, but then the blade came down again and with a loud snap it fell limp.

Graves looked up to see what had happened. Dalfor was still standing there, holding the torch, its light revealing a wet trickle that had soaked through his own trousers. For some reason that gave Graves a feeling of relief. _At least I wasn't the only one_. But the others were all still standing there, frozen.

He looked up into the face of the man who had saved his life. It was Vanek, Old Vanek. The crew leader was standing there regarding the dead thing as if it was a rock he'd uncovered in a trench he'd been digging. The weapon with which he'd slain the thing was his regular old shovel, its iron head worn down almost to a nub by years of repeated thrusting into the ground.

Vanek looked at the others, then reached down and extended a hand that Graves used to pull himself up to his feet. The creature remained where it had fallen, face-down in the mess. A few feet away, Sorles had stopped moving. Graves couldn't quite bring himself to look that way just yet.

"What... what's happening?" he asked.

"Reckon them bodies we buried are rising from their graves and trying to kill everybody," Vanek said.

* * *

It started with the discovery of the broken mine cart. The overseer on duty declared it sabotage. The convicts were gathered in the open square in front of the mine, chivvied into rough rows by the hard-faced guards. Facing them were the whipping posts, the wooden shafts driven deep into the spattered ground. The prisoners kept staring at those grim pillars, even with the Chief Overseer emerged from his hut and began to address them.

Reyn Vanek had once felt fear like any other man. He'd felt it when he went off to fight in the Duke's army, had felt it curdle in his guts and turn his bowels to water when he'd stood in the line at Dunford. He'd felt it when he'd been critically wounded in the siege of High Fornas, but the citadel had held and he'd been sent home with the empty supply wagons with a brass medallion and a small pension. That moment when he'd first seen the familiar rooftops of his village had been the happiest of his life. That moment hadn't lasted very long at all, as he'd limped into the back room of his house to find his wife lying under his best friend. In all the years that followed Vanek never remembered picking up the axe, or using it. Just the blood, and the rough hands that had grabbed him after.

After that, Vanek hadn't had much fear left. Two decades in the copper mines at Tulworth Kael pulled out the remainder, leaving just the hard shell of a man. So when the Chief Overseer drew his number out of the barrel he didn't fight, didn't cry out like the other two who were dragged to the posts with him. He didn't try to escape the hands that held him as his ragged tunic was torn away and the bloody manacles were fitted around his wrists.

Vanek screamed when the punishment began. You didn't take a whipping like that and not scream, that had nothing to do with fear. But he didn't flinch, and when it was over and the shackles were removed he was the only one of the three who got up and returned to the mob of gathered prisoners.

* * *

A confused din started up as all of the surviving diggers started yelling and asking questions all at once. But Graves kept his attention focused on Vanek. He'd known the man for a long time, knew enough of his history to understand why he wasn't pissing his pants in terror like the rest of them. Or if he was, he was keeping those emotions under close rein. The calm Vanek radiated served as a kind of an anchor for Graves, and he felt as if he was coming back into himself, the fear receding enough for him to regain control.

"Where's your crew?" Graves asked.

"Ran away," Vanek said. "Guess I can't blame them. A couple of those things attacked us. Heveren's dead, couldn't do anything to save him. I thought I'd better come on over here and check in on you lot."

"I'm glad you did," Graves said.

Dalfor came forward, thrusting his torch at the fallen creature until Vanek poked it away with an irritated swing of his shovel. "Don't bother, that one's dead," the old man said. "Or destroyed might be a better word."

"The dead don't fucking get up and start walking around!" Dalfor said.

"This one did. Look at those clothes. That's a uniform, or what's left of it. We put him in the ground."

"Our side or theirs?" Squints asked.

"What does it matter?" Vanek asked. "You can turn him over and check if you want."

Graves turned and saw that Keev had gone to help Rajek. The injured soldier was sitting up, but his face was a mask of pain. "His arm's broken," Keev said. "Sorles is dead."

Graves had already guessed the latter. He still couldn't look for himself, and he knew that the dying man's face would continue to appear every time he closed his eyes. "Is everyone else all right?"

They all looked around. "Hey, where's Barek?" Keev asked.

There was no sign of the big man anywhere in the camp, and the tent he shared with Dalfor was empty. "He probably lit out at the first sign of trouble," Squints said.

"We can't stay here," Vanek said. "There's more of them things out there."

"How many?" Dalfor asked.

Vanek considered. "We put an awful lot of bodies in the ground over the last few days. You do the math."

"We have get to the main camp," Graves said.

"What?" Dalfor said. "Why? You can hear that, that way's crawling with them!" As if to bolster his point another gunshot sounded a loud crack in the night.

"And they're fighting. There are a hundred men in that camp, and weapons," Graves said. "And it's a hell of a lot less exposed than we are right here. If you want to go another way, that's fine with me. I'm going to the camp."

He looked around the circle, at the eyes that glimmered in the light. The dead man's face hadn't reflected the torch, Graves thought. They'd get no warning if more of them came out of the night. They were all still obviously afraid, but none of them offered any challenge to his authority. "Rajek, you okay to run?"

Keev had helped the soldier to his feet; he still looked unsteady but he met Graves's look squarely. "I'll keep up, don't you worry."

"All right," Graves said. "Get some more torches. We're going."

* * * * *

Chapter 7

Most of them had walked the path between the diggers' camp and the main camp near the trade road a dozen times, but in the dark and with the backdrop of what had just happened the route took on an added malevolence. Dalfor, Keev, and Squints carried torches, while Graves stood near Rajek in case the injured man needed help. Vanek brought up the rear, watching over them with his stubby shovel.

As they passed through the fringe of brush and scattered trees the camp ahead came into clearer focus. The lights they had seen were not just the torches of the night sentries; parts of the camp were actually on fire, and as they watched an entire wagon blazed into flame. In its light they could see half-clad figures rushing about while slower, darker forms pursued them. More forms were visible in the rows of tents that stretched out behind the wagons, though the diggers could see that several of the tents were collapsed, and others moved violently as if the heavy canvas itself had come alive and was trying to escape.

"They're all over the place," Rajek said.

"Over there!" Dalfor cried. They followed his pointing hand to see a small group of soldiers, in and out of uniform but coming together to form a row formation as they'd no doubt been drilled when they'd first been drafted into the Duke's army. They had muskets, and as they raised those weapons to their shoulders Graves felt a thrill of sudden hope. He looked where those weapons were pointing and saw the targets of the infantrymen, a gaggle of maybe half a dozen of the shambling creatures that materialized out of the night.

All of the diggers had come to a stop, arrested by the scene. They were too far away to hear the order to fire, but the muskets exploded as one, launching a cloud of smoke in the direction of the zombies. For a moment the dead monstrosities were obscured, but then they materialized from the cloud, picking up speed as they charged. Graves could see some signs of where the musket balls had impacted: one had a huge hole in its chest, while a second was missing a part of its face. A third had lost an entire arm, but was already reaching for the soldiers with the other. None of them had gone down, as far as he could tell.

Against that terrifying rush the line of soldiers could not hold. A few had begun the reloading procedure, but even with his limited experience with battle Graves could tell that they would never finish in time. A man broke and fled, and then another. One of the soldiers tried to rally them, perhaps a noncommissioned officer, but before he could do anything a dark form rose up behind him and locked its arms around his body, dragging him to the ground. At that all of the remaining soldiers fled, but more of the creatures were coming out of the camp in every direction, blocking their escape. One man went mad and starting swinging his musket at them like a club, but he was quickly swarmed under and fell.

"There's no escape that way," Keev breathed into the sudden silence. Squints looked at them, unable to see what was happening but gauging the general idea from his comrades' faces.

"The torches," Dalfor said. "They'll see, they'll come for us..."

"Can they even see?" Rajek asked. "Some of them don't even have eyes..."

"They found Sorles well enough!" Dalfor shot back, panic edging into his voice.

Graves turned to try and calm the man, but he started as he saw a shadowy form stagger through the scattered brush to their left. Dalfor heard it and let out a strangled cry. He leapt back, nearly losing his footing as he stumbled off the trail. Vanek lifted his shovel, but before any of them could either commit to flight or fight the figure fell to his knees in the dirt of the trail. As he looked up at them the torchlight revealed the panicked features of Lieutenant Ponzen.

"What... who... we have to get out of here!" the officer cried. "They're everywhere... they've overrun the whole camp! We have to get out of here!"

"Yeah, we sort of came to that conclusion already," Vanek said.

Ponzen's head swiveled to face him, his eyes vacant of recognition. "They've cut off the road... there's no escape!"

"You got out okay, it seems," Vanek said.

Graves quickly stepped forward before the lieutenant had a chance to realize what the old man was saying. "Did you see the Major?" he asked. "Is Major Carvis alive?"

Ponzen shook his head. "I... I don't know. They hit from the forest side... his tent was over there, I think it went down, those things... they must have..."

"You'd better stay with us, lieutenant," Graves said as the officer trailed off. He couldn't blame the man too much for panicking, not after his own recent experience. As for what to do now... An idea suddenly flashed in his head. "The tool cart," he said. "We can get weapons there, maybe try to slip off into the forest."

"There may be more of them there," Vanek pointed out. "We've been putting bodies everywhere, as close to where they fell as we could." He didn't add that they'd just dumped many of them in the woods, not in front of Ponzen, but Graves didn't need the reminder.

"There's got to be way through them," Graves said. "There's only so many, they can't be everywhere."

They quickly retraced their steps, the sounds of the dying camp falling away behind them as they fled. They didn't have very far to go to their next destination. The tool cart had been situated on a spot on the battlefield roughly equidistant between the various dig sites. It had been left there in the open, unguarded. It was a rare instance of something valuable being immune to walking away and disappearing, since stealing the tools would only have made life more difficult for the digger crews.

They skirted the edge of the woods, passing their silent and empty camp. Graves quietly cursed himself for not thinking to come here first and equip themselves earlier. He had the excuse of his initial panic, but he understood that their only chance of making it out of here alive might rely on him keeping a cool head.

The familiar outline of the cart finally materialized out of the night ahead. It was a rickety two-wheeler fashioned out of rough-cut wooden boards, probably a farmer's cart that had been requisitioned by the far-reaching hands of the Duke's quartermasters. The canvas drape that covered the bed had been left drawn back, leaving the assorted tools exposed in the bed. The reflexive part of Graves's mind that still thought in terms of normal life kicked in before he could catch himself and he looked back at the lieutenant. Normally such carelessness would have resulted in a demerit and punishment, but at the moment Ponzen appeared to be preoccupied by more pressing concerns. Graves almost laughed before he realized that it might cause his men to think he'd fallen over the edge from panic into madness. _Dancing on the brink_ , he thought to himself.

Keev hurried forward to the cart. "Don't bother with the picks," Graves said. "After what we just saw, poking them won't do much good."

"Cracking their heads open seems to work," Vanek noted. "Or severing their necks." He held up his shovel, still crusted with the blood of the creature he'd dispatched back in the camp.

Keev glanced back and nodded, so he didn't immediately see the hand that reached up and grabbed hold of the bed of the cart. But as the bony figures scraped the wood he turned to see a slack gray face looking up at him.

"Gaah!" Keev yelled. He dropped the shovel he'd grabbed and staggered back. His feet caught on the uneven turf and he fell onto his back.

Fortunately for him the zombie that had startled him was damaged; as it pulled itself forward around the side of the cart they could see that it was missing one leg, amputated at the knee. But that didn't stop it from crawling forward toward the fallen man, its fingers clawing at the ground. Keev let out a strangled sound and backpedaled furiously, though the zombie continued closing the gap.

Keev's companions recovered enough to react before it could reach him. Dalfor thrust the long pole of his torch at its face. The flames seared the dead skin, filling the air with the sick stench of rotten flesh, but the damage neither stopped it nor caused it to hesitate. It lunged at the digger, knocking the torch from his hand and just missing grabbing hold of his leg with its probing fingers. Dalfor stumbled backwards while Keev took advantage of the distraction to roll to his feet and run off.

Graves rushed past them and reached into the bed of the cart, grabbing hold of the shovel that Keev had partially pulled clear. He turned and smashed it into the zombie's skull. The iron blade was hardly sharp, but it struck with a heavy thunk that knocked the thing flat. But the blow clearly hadn't been enough to disable it, as it quickly pushed itself up again and pivoted to face this new attacker. Graves raised his shovel again, but before he could strike Vanek came up behind it and drove his improvised weapon into the base of its skull. With another loud crack the thing fell limp and this time did not stir.

"You're getting pretty good at that," Graves said.

"I think we're all going to get some practice before the night's out," the older man said.

"Are there any more?" Graves asked. "Keev, you okay?"

"Yeah," the reedy man said. "Just surprised me is all."

"Everybody grab something you can hit with. Dalfor, your torch."

"Burning them don't help none," Vanek said as the other digger recovered the flickering brand. "Heveren tried that, didn't work."

"Thanks for the tip," Dalfor said, staring down at the ruined corpse.

Ponzen was also looking at the fallen thing. Graves offered his shovel to him. "Lieutenant, you'd better take this. Lieutenant?"

Ponzen blinked and looked up at him. "What? Yes," he said, accepting the shovel. He stared at it as if he didn't know what it was.

Vanek and Graves shared a look, then Graves turned toward the front of the cart. "We'd better..."

"Something's coming!" Keev hissed in warning, pointing toward the forest.

* * * * *

Chapter 8

The diggers gathered around the cart, using its bulk as an improvised rampart between themselves and the forest. They all had shovels they'd pulled from the cart, and Dalfor had a heavy sledgehammer that he carried awkwardly in one hand, the other raised so that the light from his torch extended further. Only Ponzen held back, standing on the edge of the circle of light as if he was undecided between staying with the group and fleeing alone into the night.

A large figure materialized out of the wall of mist that extended out from the forest. They all tensed, but this figure was running, not shambling, and as he entered the ring of torchlight they all let out a sigh of collective relief.

"Barek!" Keev said.

"It just figures that _he'd_ survive," Squints said.

The big man was breathing heavily, and he glanced over his shoulder several times as he slowed and finally joined them at the cart. He otherwise looked little the worse for wear. He was clad in a dark cloak that looked rather nicer than anything the diggers owned, pressed down under a long satchel slung across his back. He was armed with a large knife that had a rough, almost jagged edge. "Hey guys," he said.

"What happened to you?" Graves asked.

"Ran into some trouble in the woods," Barek said, as if he'd just been out on a casual stroll when everything had started to go to shit. "There's... _things_ in there."

"Yeah, we've already run into the walking dead," Squints said dryly, gesturing with his shovel toward the destroyed zombie with the missing leg.

"I'm not talking about those guys we buried," Barek said. "These others... they don't have flesh, they're just bones, some with scraps of stuff hanging off them, but mostly just bones."

"Bones?" Squints asked. "But... how can they move, without muscles? What keeps them together?"

"Look, I didn't ask them, okay? But there's a bunch of them moving around in those woods. Fortunately they don't move all that fast. I got this off one of them."

He held out his sword. In the light of their torches they could see that the jagged edge they'd seen was actually a greenish encrustation that covered the blade, which itself showed signs of advanced decay. The hilt was a bare slab of metal that ended in a twist that might have been intended as some kind of decoration.

"What's that weird rust on the blade?" Dalfor asked.

"It's bronze," Graves said. "That's verdigris. That sword might be a thousand years old."

"Well, it still works well enough," Barek said.

"How many are there?" Graves asked.

"Many," Barek said.

Before he could elaborate Keev hissed, "Listen!"

They all immediately became quiet and turned back to the forest. For a moment everything grew hushed, even the still-distant background chaos coming from the burning camp seeming to fade. To Graves that silence was filled by the pounding of his heart in his chest and an awareness of his own breathing. But then, so softly at first that none of them were sure they had heard it, a sound issued from the forest.

Clack... clack... clackclackclackclack...

"They're coming!" Keev said.

"You led them right to us!" Dalfor added, turning on Barek.

"I could see your torches from two hundred paces off," the big man retorted. "You'd better..."

"Shut up, all of you!" Graves said. "We have to get moving. Come on." With that he led them away from the cart and the forest and the path back to camp, instead taking them out into the vast open space of the battlefield.

The meadow had been trampled repeatedly by the booted feet of both armies, but there were places where the tall grass still rose to past knee-high. As the scattered trees fell away behind them it felt like they were charging through some vast underground cavern, with the bubble of light from their torches forming the roof above. More clouds had skittered across the night sky, blotting out the pale flicker of the stars.

They made their way quickly across the familiar ground. The marks left by the recent fighting were visible everywhere, from scraps of gear too ruined to be worth salvaging to bloody messes left behind where someone had met his fate. The diggers had already cleared this part of the meadow for the most part, but every now and again they came upon some bit of remains that had them starting in alarm. But they found no intact bodies, and nothing stirred from the dark to threaten them.

They kept looking over their shoulders for signs of pursuit, but the sounds they'd heard didn't follow and they didn't see anything moving in the torchlight. The glow from the burning camp was still visible in the distance, though they were too far away to see figures that might have been silhouetted in the flames. All too aware that the dead warriors who had wrought that carnage might be coming their way at any moment, the diggers hurried their pace. They couldn't quite run, not with the ground so uneven, but they started to spread out as those better able to hurry set the pace. Rajek was having some difficulty, his face tight with pain, but true to his word he kept up with the group.

Barek came up to Graves as they fled. "What's with Ponzo?" he hissed under his breath.

Graves looked over at the lieutenant, who was moving almost as if he was one of the dead himself, a shambling, awkward stride over the uneven ground. "He's in shock. He's the only survivor from the main camp we've come upon."

"As long as he doesn't start giving orders," Barek growled.

"You see any of Vanek's crew in the woods?" Graves asked. "Some of them tried to get away."

"I didn't see nobody," Barek replied. Graves looked at the cloak he was wearing and the bundle he was carrying, but said nothing more. He saw that some of the others were starting to pull ahead, including Dalfor and Keev, taking their torches and the light they shed with them. "Hold up!" he hissed, repeating it in a slightly louder tone to get their attention. "We have to stick together, and decide where we're going." He turned back as Rajek and Vanek caught up to them, the former looking decidedly pale in the weak light.

"We have to keep moving," Dalfor said.

"We keep running blind, we might run into something nasty," Vanek said. "We dug graves all over this here battlefield, 'case you forgot."

"Where are we going, anyway?" Squints asked.

"Away from here's fine with me," Dalfor said.

"We could try again for the road, but Vanek's right," Graves said. "The final engagement took place near there, before the Baron's army broke. Those things could be thickest there."

"Maybe they all went to the camp," Keev suggested.

"I wouldn't bet my life on that," Vanek said.

"We could make for the hills," Squints said. "Rough country, lots of places to hide."

"Rough country means slow going, though," Barek said. "We'd make better time on the road."

"Not the road!" Ponzen said, his first contribution to the debate. His voice was loud enough that they all started a moment, and even the lieutenant himself seemed taken aback. He seemed to shrink in on himself. "They're all over the road, they're everywhere," he added in a quieter tone.

"Well, that was constructive," Vanek said.

"Wherever we end up going, we're going to need to catch our breath first," Graves said. "Rajek's hurt, and none of us are exactly fresh."

"We don't have any food or water," Squints said.

"I've got a flask of water," Vanek said, turning so they could see the container hanging from a throng over his shoulder. "I'll share out when we get a chance, but Graves is right, we need to find a safe place first."

"We won't find it standing around and talking about it!" Dalfor said. He waved his torch, causing the flames to flicker and the light to weaken. "We have to get out of the open!"

"That way," Graves said, pointing to a spot ahead and to their left. Vanek saw what he was thinking and nodded.

"Let's go, then!" Dalfor said. He turned and hurried forward again, the others moving to follow. But the digger only managed maybe two dozen steps before the ground abruptly collapsed under him. Dalfor tumbled forward into a shallow pit that rose to maybe waist-high, letting out a surprised shriek as he dropped his torch. He tried to push himself out, but even as his hands scrambled for purchase on the crumbling edge of the hole a pair of gray arms erupted behind him, snapped around his body, and dragged him back under, screaming.

* * * * *

Chapter 9

Dalfor didn't go down without a fight. He thrust himself back up out of the grave, though the arms locked around his body refused to give. He tried to bring the heavy sledgehammer into play, but he couldn't manage to twist his body enough to deliver a useful blow.

The other diggers recovered faster this time and rushed to his aid. But before they could get close enough to bring their shovels into play Squints came to a sudden stop and let out an exclamation of surprise. The others could see a skeletal hand that had poked up from the turf and locked around his ankle. Squints tried to pull free, but the bony fingers held on like iron shackles.

Graves and Vanek both turned momentarily toward the pinned digger, but before they could either react to his predicament or continue forward to help Dalfor the ground erupted a few paces away. Another zombie rose up out of the ground, its chest splayed wide open to reveal a partial rib cage caked with dirt. The thing immediately spun toward Keev, whose path would have taken him directly on top of the grave had he managed even two or three more steps forward. The reedy digger, horrified as the thing's visage fixed on him, immediately retreated, his torch flailing back and forth as he fled.

Barek stepped over to help Squints, but as he raised his sword the stricken digger let out a loud yelp of alarm and held up a hand to block him. Snarling in response, the big man grabbed hold of Squints and added his strength to try and pull him clear. The trapped digger let out a yell of pain as the pressure added strain to his ankle joint, but then with a small eruption of dirt the two men fell back. But Squints' relief lasted only until he lifted his leg and saw that the bony hand was still circling his ankle, attached to an arm that now ended at the elbow. The fingers were still moving slightly.

"Gah! Get it off!" he yelled.

Vanek and Graves, meanwhile, had turned to deal with the new arrival. Vanek swung his shovel but missed its neck, delivering a jarring blow that knocked its head back but didn't seem to do any significant damage. It immediately lunged for him, but its legs were still partially embedded in the grave and it couldn't catch him. After flashing a quick look at his companion Vanek feinted with his shovel and hit it again with a glancing blow to the forehead. The zombie extended itself, pushing off with one bony hand until its legs emerged from the soil. But before it could right itself Graves came up behind it and drove his shovel down with both hands onto the back of its neck. The thing's spine gave way with a heavy crack and it collapsed.

Vanek was already turning to Dalfor, but the digger's luck had run out. The only one close enough to have helped him was Ponzen, but the lieutenant had run off into the dark as soon as the creatures had appeared. Even as Vanek reached down to try and grab hold of the half-buried digger one of the rotted arms shifted and twisted around the man's neck. A deep gurgling sound issued from Dalfor's throat, but it was quickly cut off as the zombie pulled his head back until his neck snapped as decisively as the one that Graves had just destroyed. As the man sagged back into the ground the zombie's head peeked out from behind his body, its rotting lips spreading open in a feral grimace. With his own lips twisting in disgust Vanek drove his shovel down once, twice, three times, until its neck parted and it collapsed back into its hole.

"Are there any more?" Graves asked, looking around. "Is everyone all right?"

"This crazy bastard almost took my leg off!" Squints said. He'd finally gotten the skeletal hand off his ankle, and he looked at the hole where it had appeared warily, expecting the rest of the creature to follow. But while they could now make out the outlines of more graves around them, no more of the dead stirred.

"Maybe next time I'll just let them pull you under," Barek said, kicking the severed arm in disgust. Now that whatever power had animated it had faded, the thing came apart in a clatter of lose bones.

"Dalfor's dead," Vanek reported as he came back to join them. Graves nodded; he'd already guessed as much. "Where's the lieutenant?" he asked.

Vanek shrugged. "Took off that way," he said with a casual gesture.

"Good riddance," Barek said.

"Come on," Graves said. "Squints, get Dalfor's torch. And bring that sledge too, we might need it."

The digger nodded and recovered the items, careful of the ruined mound that now held two bodies. He lingered there a moment, and said, "Bad luck, brother."

By the time Squints rejoined the others they were ready to resume their march. Rajek was swaying on his feet, but none of them looked particularly vigorous. Squints grimaced a bit with each step, his ankle tweaked by the rough treatment but thankfully not sprained.

Graves turned to the diminished ranks of his crew. "Listen up," he told them. "I want you to stay close, and stay sharp. We've already learned that these things can attack at any moment, from anywhere. We need to keep an eye out for each other, and watch where we're going."

"Where _are_ we going?" Barek asked.

Before Graves could respond, Vanek hissed, "Graves."

They all turned in time to see Ponzen shuffle back out of the darkness into the edge of their torchlight. The lieutenant's face looked drawn and pale, almost as if he was turning into one of the restless dead himself. "The way ahead is clear," he said. Without waiting for a response, he turned and disappeared back into the dark.

"Look out, Rajek, it looks like we got another guy bucking for your job as scout," Barek said with a snort.

The night continued to press in close around them as the small band made its way across the rest of the battlefield. Within the darkness there were subtle sounds and hints of motion that had them constantly coming to alert. By the time they had covered another two hundred yards from where they had left Dalfor they were all on a razor's edge.

But nothing hostile entered the tenuous ring of light, and eventually familiar stone blocks began to materialize out of the murk.

"We're back here?" Barek asked, as if surprised at where they'd ended up. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Graves? You haven't forgotten about our 'stolen' body from today, have you?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," Graves said. "But we need a place to catch our breath, and stone walls may be the only thing that keeps those things off our backs long enough to do that."

"From what I remember, there wasn't much left intact," Barek muttered, but he followed as Graves and Vanek—and oddly Ponzen, who continued to shuffle on ahead—led them deeper into the ruin.

At first, all they found was wreckage similar to what they'd encountered on their earlier visit. There were no signs of any recent disturbances, no indication that any of the dead had visited this place, but that body _had_ made its way here, and Graves was long past believing in coincidences. His doubts grew as the somber extent of the ruin, imposing even in its decay, continued to stretch out before the wan circle of their torchlight. But then he caught sight of what he'd seen on their first visit.

He wasn't the only one. "Look, over there," Keev said. "That building over there looks mostly intact."

"Not sure I want to trust my life to 'mostly,'" Barek groused, but when the others ignored him he shut up and fell in with the rest.

More details of the structure became clear as they got closer. It looked like it might have been impressive in its day, with the remains of a dome perched atop walls of pale stone that caught the light of their torches and gleamed even through the webwork of cracks that covered the surface. An entrance was visible on one of the facing walls as they approached, a deep slit topped by an intact arch. The other wall looked more or less intact, though there were obvious gaps along its summit where part of the roof had given way.

"That feeling, from before," Rajek said. "Like a dark cloud in my mind. It's gone."

Graves looked over at him for a long moment before he realized what the soldier meant. Against all of the terror that had befallen them that night he'd almost forgotten that feeling of dread that had come over him on their earlier visit to the ruins. They hadn't talked about that experience, had avoided talking about it, but from the looks on the faces of the other men who had made that trip they had all felt it too."

"Maybe it's connected to all this," Barek said. "Aren't you going to say that you got a bad feeling?" he asked Keev. The other man just shrugged.

"Well, it looks like Ponzen's not scared," Vanek said. As they stood there watching, the officer continued forward and slipped into the dark doorway.

"I say we leave him here," Barek said. But as if anticipating the obvious response from his comrades he started forward first, trudging across the cracked flagstones toward the waiting building.

The interior of the structure consisted of one large room, a square roughly twenty paces on a side. The light of their torches revealed that it was mostly empty. There was some debris scattered across the floor, but it seemed surprisingly sparse given the huge gap in the domed roof above. The far walls were in roughly the same shape as the ones they'd seen on their approach: crumbling and suspect but currently intact. None of the significant breaches were lower than ten feet above the ground, and there were no other obvious exits other than the one through which they'd entered.

Graves didn't see the lieutenant at first, and felt a momentary thrill of rising panic before he spotted him sitting on a pile of rubble in one of the corners of the room. Ponzen had an oddly intent look on his face, but he turned away from Graves's stare.

Rajek had clearly come to the end of his endurance, and Vanek and Squints had to help him to the floor. He grimaced as the maneuver put stress on his injured arm, but even that pain seemed to barely stir him. "Give me your cloak," Vanek said to Barek.

"Why? I need it."

"Barek," Graves said.

"Fine, fine." The big man unlimbered his bundle and drew off the cloak, throwing it at Vanek. Once the old digger had used it to cover Rajek he took out his water flask. That got everyone's attention; none of them had had anything to drink since retiring to their bedrolls half the night ago, and their desperate flight had worked up quite a thirst. "Don't waste too much on him," Barek said, nodding toward Rajek. "He's not likely to make it, and he's not one of us anyway."

"You are a credit to your humanity, Barek," Vanek said, but he only gave Rajek a single swallow from the flask. He looked up at Graves. "Maybe enough for a small squirt each," he said.

"Share it around," Graves said. "We'll find more in the hills. For now, let's see what we have here. Keev, keep an eye out." The thin digger nodded and took his torch to the open doorway. There was nothing in the place they could have used to make a barricade other than the loose stone scattered about the interior, and there didn't seem to be enough of that to block the entire entry. Graves was wondering about that when Vanek went over to Barek's bundle, now lying on the floor, and prodded at it with his foot. The tall leather wrap looked familiar to Graves, but he couldn't place it until the older digger knelt and unfolded it.

"What have we here?" Vanek asked. Squints and Graves joined the old man to take a look. None of them noticed when Keev reached into a pocket of his coat. He took out a handful of something and used it to trace a faint mark on one of the stone blocks that formed the arch. When he turned back toward the others he saw that Ponzen was watching him with that same penetrating yet distant stare.

"I was thinking ahead," Barek said as the last leather flap was flung back to reveal a pair of objects that all of them recognized. The light from Squints' torch gleamed on the polished barrels of the two muskets. Gathered at the bottom of the bag were a powder horn and a cartridge bag, the latter still attached to a leather belt.

"Who'd you steal these from?" Vanek asked.

"Hey, the guy I took them from wasn't using them," Barek said. "And I think you should be grateful I did get them, given the circumstances."

Vanek raised a hand and pressed it to his forehead. "And how did you plan to do that? Have you been trained in the use of firearms?"

Barek's surprised blink was sufficient answer to that question, but he quickly rallied. "But you... surely... How hard can it be? Rajek can..." he trailed off as he looked down at the injured man with his broken arm. "I'm sure the lieutenant knows how to use them." They all took a quick look over at Ponzen, who was still staring at Keev to the latter's obvious discomfort. Barek turned on Squints, who had been looking at the guns with an almost equal intensity, but before the big man could say anything the nearsighted digger turned to Graves and said, "There's something over there, in the corner," he said.

Barek snorted. " _You_ saw something?"

"The light, it gleamed on something metal, set into the floor," Squints explained.

"All right, let's take a look," Graves said. But they'd barely started to turn in that direction when a hiss of alarm from the doorway caught their attention. "Something's out there!" Keev warned.

* * * * *

Chapter 10

Graves, Vanek, and Squints hurried over to the entry.

Barek lingered a moment, looking down at his guns, but ultimately he had to acknowledge that they weren't all that useful at the moment. He shuffled over to join the others who were crowded in around Keev at the arch.

"What is it?" Graves asked.

"There's something out there," Keev said. "I heard movement, from that direction." He pointed out into the darkness roughly the way they had come.

For a moment they stood there in silence and listened. At first they didn't hear anything, but after a moment a sound reached them, a soft scrape of flesh on stone.

"Your boy's got sharp ears," Vanek said to Graves under his breath.

"Aye, I should have trusted them more earlier," Graves returned. He turned to Barek, who loomed over him like a shadow. "Take the torches and go over there, behind those rocks," Graves said. "Don't let them go out, but conceal the light as much as possible."

"Why me? Send Squints, it's not like he can see anything."

Graves's look hardened. "I'm not sending Squints because I trust him to have my back if those things come in here," he said. "Now do it."

Barek muttered something, but he accepted the two torches and retreated back into the interior. As the light faded darkness seemed to creep in through the arched exit, but they still couldn't see anything. But a moment later they heard the clatter of a loose rock being kicked across the broken path, accompanied by one of the soft moans that confirmed the nature of what was approaching.

"How many, do you think?" Graves asked Keev. When he got no response he looked over to see the young digger's face frozen into a mask of terror. Graves took him by the arm and drew him back, gesturing for Vanek and Squints to do the same. The four of them retreated back from the arch, using it for cover while pressing against the reassuring solidity of the walls to either side.

They all waited tensely as the sounds drew closer. Even if there was no way to tell how many were coming, it was obvious that it was not just a single creature or a scant handful. Bits of stone crunched under their feet, and they could hear the scrape of exposed bones on the broken pavers.

Vanek lifted his shovel as the zombies approached to just outside the arch. The other diggers likewise tensed in anticipation of defending themselves. It was obvious that they would have to hold them in the arch; once they got into the interior and had space to move around the living men would have no chance. Graves started to raise his arm to coordinate the attack, but even as the four of them started to lean forward the scraping sounds and soft moaning continued past. For a long moment the four men just stood there in surprise as the shuffling tread of the creatures began to fade as quickly as it had arrived. Even after those sounds had dissolved back into the general backdrop of the night they just looked at each other, their wide eyes the only thing they could see clearly in the near-darkness.

"What just happened?" Squints asked.

Vanek straightened, grimacing as something popped in his back. "Maybe it's this place," he said. "Something special that keeps them out."

"No," Ponzen said. They all turned in surprise as the lieutenant stood up and came toward them. "It was him." They followed his extended finger to Keev, who blinked in surprise and retreated a step until the wall was at his back. "What?"

"You did it," Ponzen said. "I saw you make that mark. You used a spell to control them. You're a warlock!"

* * *

Keevan didn't remember much of his past. He'd only been four or five when his parents took ill with the scatterpox, part of a plague that had enveloped his village like a rampaging forest fire. All he remembered from the last time he saw them was that they were very sick, barely able to turn their heads, and he hadn't been allowed to touch them. None of the words his mother and father had said to him in that final hasty farewell remained in his memory of that day.

It had been a distant relative, maybe a cousin, who had taken him to the tiny cottage on the edge of the Graemewyld. He remembered thinking how dark and terrifying the forest had seemed to him, the vast trees rising up like pillars behind the house as if marching to crush its puny bulk.

Those fears had long since faded, and the twelve-year-old version of Keevan no longer felt any threat from the woods. He often spent entire days within its fastness, seeking specific herbs or other reagents for his master. Talis kept him busy, but he had no problems letting the boy explore the forest on his own, or take hours for himself in between the various chores and lessons that the old man prescribed for his young pupil.

It was late one afternoon when Keevan returned from one of his excursions with a sack laden with pykewort and grimmshollow roots he'd dug up along the banks of one of the many streams that wound through the Wyld. He hadn't traveled very far that day. Talis had told him that morning that he would need help preparing tinctures to replace the ones they'd used the day before. The pair had traveled to one of the nearby villages to help some children who had fallen ill with measles. It was a common illness, not as deadly as the feared scatterpox, but it could still be deadly if it caught a child at a moment of weakness. The treatment had been successful, or at least the afflicted children had all seemed to be doing well when Talis and his student had taken their leave. Keevan could still remember the savory richness of the squabs that they had been given as a reward for their help. Talis did not eat meat, or at least Keevan had never seen him do so, but he did not enforce that choice upon his assistant.

The thought of the remaining squab left over from the night before and waiting for him in the coldbox added a certain spring to the boy's step as he emerged from the wood. He hopped the dry brook and charged up the berm that formed the unofficial border of the forest. It wasn't much of a barrier, but from its summit he had a good view of his new home.

The cottage still wasn't that impressive. Most of the houses in the village they'd just visited had been both bigger and nicer. The thatch on the roof needed replacement, a chore that Keevan knew would be his once the last of the winter storms had visited. They had no money for paint or whitewash, so the wooden walls seemed dingy by contrast. But the garden with its little markers was neat and organized even with the sparseness of the winter crops, and both the root cellar and the solitary outhouse were in good repair. Talis had taught him all of the skills needed to keep up the place and ensure that they remained mostly self-sufficient. Whatever they could not make here for themselves, the forest provided. All in all, it wasn't a bad life, although it could be a lonely one at times. Talis hadn't prohibited him from interacting with the children in the villages they visited, but the boy hadn't missed how the local parents pulled those children indoors and out of sight whenever they came to visit.

Keevan had asked his master about that once.

"The people we help are simple folk," Talis had said. "Theirs is a world where everything fits into a neat and tidy place, and anything that does not fit into that schema is disconcerting. They fear that which they do not understand."

Keevan hadn't fully understood what his master had meant at the time, but he was starting to get a better grasp of the concept.

His stomach grumbled, reminding him of his appointment with the squab, but he hesitated atop the mound of earth. His fingers found the bristles of a greenberry bush and tore them apart as he looked around. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but he felt something... off. The path that would eventually take them to the Ducal Road and the villages they visited was clear for as far as he could see. The village where he had been born was somewhere down that road, though he had never returned there in all his travels with Talis.

Keevan lingered a moment longer. He sniffed at the air, but there was nothing unusual, just the normal complex assortment of forest smells.

Talis was sitting in his big chair by the fire when Keevan came in. The old man was reading from his book of verse. It was written in Gallesian, and he'd tried to instruct Keevan in the language, but thus far the odd sounds and symbols hadn't quite started to make sense to him. The boy reflexively touched the Mark set into the threshold of the door and unlimbered his satchel, placing it on the table in the center of the room.

"Ah, good," the old man said. "I was worried you had forgotten about the work we need to do this evening. Go fetch the Book and the empty bottles from yesterday. And put some more wood on the fire, I may need you to boil up a fresh batch of fastening stock for me."

The boy reflexively started to obey, but he hesitated in the doorway that led to the adjacent kitchen. "Master?"

Talis looked up. "Yes, Keevan? Did you encounter something unusual in the forest today?"

"Not in the forest, master. Just now, on the forest's edge. I..."

"It's all right, Keevan. What did you sense?"

"I... I don't know. I didn't see or smell or hear anything, but..."

"I have told you that sometimes our minds make sense out of patterns our senses miss. You can tell me what it is, I will not berate you."

The boy's eyes sparkled. "It's something bad. Something bad is coming."

At that Talis's gaze sharpened, and he straightened in his chair. "I see," he said. He closed his eyes and spread his arms across his lap, the palms held open and up. He took a deep breath. "Yes. I see." He opened his eyes and offered a reassuring smile to the boy, who had grown even more unsettled at his master's behavior. "You did the right thing by telling me. Go, get the Book, and my old leather pack, and that bird left over from yesterday. Take it and the winter plums that are in the pantry. Swiftly, now!"

Keevan ran to obey. It only took him a minute to gather the specific items, but when he returned Talis had clad himself in his traveling coat and his soft leather cap, and was holding a small bundle. "Are we taking another journey, master?"

"No, Keevan." Talis accepted the offered pack, inserting the bundle before handing it back to him. "Take this, and go into the forest. You will remain there until I call for you."

"I want to stay with you," Keevan said.

"No," Talis said. "You must do as I say."

"But master..."

"You must do as I say, boy!" Talis said over him. For a moment something hard crept into the old man's demeanor, a glimpse of power that Keevan had only seen on a few rare occasions. But it quickly faded, and Talis's eyes were soft with sympathy as he reached out and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Listen to me, Keevan. I know what I am about. Take the bag into the forest and secure the book in the stone niche in the glen by the waterfall, the one with the butterflies. Do you remember the place?"

Keevan nodded, though his eyes were starting to blur.

"Wrap the book carefully and leave it there, as deep in the stone as you can put it. You may have to remain at the glen tonight, it will be safe there. Do you understand?"

"I understand, master. But I can be there quickly and be back, I am not afraid."

"I know, my boy. But you must listen to me."

Keevan took the bag and left the cottage. He clambered up the rise and looked around. There still wasn't any obvious sign of trouble, but the feeling he'd had earlier was still there.

He went down the far side of the berm and started into the forest. His stomach grumbled to remind him of the food he'd packed, but he didn't feel like eating. If anything, he felt like he might be sick.

He continued on for a while, noting familiar landmarks without conscious effort. He could not get lost in this part of the wood. He knew it would take a while to get to the glen, maybe even past sunset. He looked up but of course could not see the sun through the dense canopy.

Finally he came to a stop. He unslung the pack and opened it. He went through the bundle that Talis had added to the pack. He was surprised to find a fine and expensive-looking cloak of black wool. It was a little long for him but still very nice and warm.

As he was putting aside the cloak a small pouch fell out from it onto the ground. He picked it up and opened it. His eyes widened when he saw the glint of coins, silver and even a few bright lozenges of gold! He'd only seen gold once before, a small needle that Talis had used only rarely for his alchemical work, but he knew how rare and valuable it was. He'd had no idea that Talis had owned such a treasure. But why was it here? Had his master given him the pouch by mistake?

Even as those thoughts flashed through his mind he was replacing everything in the pack. He started running, not deeper into the forest but back the way he had come. He ran until his breath burned in his chest, but he was in good shape and kept on going.

In a fraction of the time it had taken him to get into the forest he was back at the earthen mound next to his home. He could smell smoke and heard voices coming from the direction of the cottage. He shrugged out of the pack and crept slowly up the rise.

Keevan crouched low as he reached the crest, using one of the bushes that covered the mound for cover. He could see a small crowd of maybe fifteen or twenty people standing around the front of the cottage. Most were men, though there were several women among them. They looked like common folk, dressed much like the farmers in the village that Keevan and Talis had just visited the day before. In fact, the boy thought as he inched forward to get a better look, a few of the faces looked familiar. They were too far away for him to be certain.

He spotted a pair of riders hanging back a short distance, monitoring the scene. They wore breastplates and helmets and had swords at their belts. Their coats each bore the same colored pattern, and while he couldn't make out the design sewn across their left breasts, he recognized them as Baron Zembraith's soldiers.

He couldn't distinguish the individual voices out from the crowd, but it was pretty obvious that they were not here for a social call. He could see the anger on their faces, accompanied by an undercurrent of fear that echoed the tense feeling in Keevan's gut. Only the riders had neutral expressions, though they were obviously with the crowd.

A stir went through the crowd and Keevan almost rose up from his concealment before he caught himself. But his stomach twisted again as he caught sight of more of the visitors emerging from the house. They had Talis with them.

Keevan's master was still dressed in the traveling clothes he'd been wearing earlier, and there was no sign that he'd been treated poorly. But the men to either side of him were holding onto his arms tightly, and the one behind him was holding something against his back, maybe a weapon of some sort. Most of the members of the crowd were carrying something, mostly varieties of farm tools, but Talis had taught him that even a hoe, pitchfork, or pick handle could be a deadly weapon if backed by strength and will.

The old man didn't resist as he was led out to meet the crowd. Some of them were yelling now, but the voices overlapped each other and Keevan still couldn't make out individual words.

Then his master addressed the crowd. Keevan could feel the soothing effect of his voice, but when he shifted his attention to the mob he didn't see any easing of their anger.

Then he saw the man carrying the rope.

At that Keevan did start to stand. But even as he rose, Talis turned slightly and their eyes met. The boy heard a soft voice in his mind. _Don't_. That whisper had the force of a command, and Keevan slumped back down behind the bushes.

The common folk in the crowd were yelling again. Keevan couldn't watch, even though he knew what was about to happen. Through the fringe of brush he saw that the crowd had moved over toward the big tree that rose up out of the earth next to their root cellar. Keevan had climbed that tree many times, had sat on the thick branch that jutted out from it like a crooked arm.

Stifling a sob, Keevan turned and slid down the embankment. He reflexively grabbed hold of the pack as he ran back into the forest. He ran for as long as he could before exhaustion tripped him up. He let out a heavy sound as the air was knocked out of his lungs.

He remained there as night fell over the forest, shaking with grief and shame.

* * *

"Keev, is this true?" Graves asked.

The scrawny digger looked around the circle of faces, where suspicion tinged by fear had suddenly appeared at Ponzen's accusation. "No! I'm not... I'm no warlock, or wizard, or anything!"

Ponzen reached out and grabbed hold of one of the torches that Barek was holding. For a moment the big man held his grip, then with a slightly exaggerated motion released the brand. Ponzen thrust it forward so quickly that Vanek and Keev had to jump back to avoid being burned. "Look!" the officer said.

"Get that light back!" Graves said, but it was too late; the others had all leaned instinctively forward at the command, and as the torchlight played over the inner surface of the arch they could all see the dark rune inscribed upon the pale stone.

"That's a bloodmark!" Ponzen declared triumphantly. "Black sorcery!"

"It's just old ashes!" Keev returned, only to flinch as he realized that the comment was a sort of admission. "It's not sorcery, it's just a simple ward against evil..."

"So you admit that you traffic in the dark arts!" Ponzen said.

"Look, if it kept those things at bay..." Vanek said.

"He's probably responsible for those monsters rising in the first place!" Ponzen said.

"Now, hold on," Graves said. "First off, keep your voice down, second there's no evidence..."

Ponzen drew himself up, tugging on his uniform tunic. "I am the officer in command here," he declared. "I will not be dictated to like some common..." He trailed off, perhaps sensing that he risked pressing his case too aggressively. Barek turned to Squints and muttered, "He sure picked a swell time to recover his wits."

With an obvious effort Graves schooled his features and kept his voice calm. "Sir," he said. "We're still in great danger here. Just because that last batch of zombies took a pass doesn't mean were safe. So let's all just keep our heads, yes? Now, Keev, can you maintain that... ward, you called it? Will it keep those things out of here, say until morning?"

Keev shook his head. "I don't know. I honestly didn't even know the Mark would work, I just don't know..."

Ponzen blinked in disbelief. "You cannot tell me that you believe this man! He's confessed to engaging in witchcraft!"

"I thought witches were all women," Barek offered helpfully.

"I am the representative of the Duke here, and as an officer of the Duke's army I cannot, will not, tolerate debate on this matter!" Before any of them could intervene, Ponzen thrust the torch into the wall. The fire flared as the pitch smeared the black rune, which seemed to flash briefly before it was obscured.

"Why did you do that?" Vanek asked. "That might have been the only thing keeping those bloody creatures from getting in here!"

Ponzen's lips twisted into a sneer. "Your eternal soul will thank me, man!"

Vanek looked like he had a quick comeback to that comment, but he didn't get a chance to make it before a pair of gray hands thrust forward, seized hold of the lieutenant's throat from behind, and pulled him back into the darkness.

* * * * *

Chapter 11

For a moment the diggers just stood there, too stunned by the sudden development to react. They had all seen the hands that had grabbed Ponzen, but he'd been yanked away so quickly it was almost as if he'd just disappeared. There was no scream, no sound to accompany the event until they heard a vicious rending noise that sounded more like a building being demolished than a human body being torn apart.

"Holy fucking shit!" Squints said.

The curse seemed to stir his companions from their funk, so they could react when another of the risen dead slid forward into the archway. Vanek and Graves struck it almost simultaneously, delivering solid blows with their shovels to its head and chest. They had enough experience with the things now to know that neither was a critical blow, but it knocked the thing off balance enough that it fell back into the night. But the respite was only temporary before several others shuffled into view. Somehow this cohort had been able to approach without detection, but there was no time to think about that as the creatures pressed their attack.

"We have to hold the doorway!" Vanek said. That much was obvious, but thus far their success with their improvised weapons had a mixed record at best.

"Keev... can you restore your spell?" Graves asked.

It looked as though the young digger was trying exactly that, but his hands were shaking as he inscribed another mark on another part of the arch. "It's not working!" he said, though the others could see that for themselves as one of the zombies lunged for him. Keev stumbled awkwardly back out of its reach, flinching as Graves smashed the creature with a driving blow from his shovel. The impact cracked its skull but didn't stop it, and it hesitated only a moment before it surged forward once more.

Barek had retreated in the first exchange, returning to his satchel and the guns inside. He hesitated there, trying to decide what to do, when Squints pushed him aside.

"What are you doing?" the big digger asked.

Squints dropped to his knees beside the open satchel. "Trying to save our lives," he said.

* * *

"I wish we weren't so close," Kohn said. He rose up from his crouch and looked out over the edge of the trench. The hole they'd dug was just big enough to accommodate him and his companion. The other man didn't look up, instead keeping his focus on the firing mechanism of the rifled musket he was holding. The weapon was long, sleek, and deadly. Two others that were a twin to it leaned up against the side of the trench beside him, next to a small excavated shelf that held a cartridge bag and a metal canister holding extra powder.

Kohn peered through the fringe of tufted branches they'd emplaced to cover their position. "You listening, sergeant? I said I think we're pretty close."

The only response he got was a grunt as his companion put the gun down and picked up another. He gave the flintlock the same perfunctory series of tests, verifying that the spring mechanism was properly aligned with the cap that was fitted into the metal socket built into the weapon. Sparks flew each time he worked the mechanism.

Kohn looked at him then resumed his study of the road. Its length spread out below their position, weaving through the hills before slipping past a hundred paces below them. "I've seen you make shots on a target the size of an apple at twice this distance, three times," Kohn said.

"Those targets weren't moving," the sergeant allowed.

"You're not worried about this job, Hark?" Kohn asked.

"It's a job," Sergeant Harkland said. He put down the second musket and stood. His gaze swept out over the landscape that spread out before them. From their vantage he had a clear view of every direction for several hundred yards, including a long stretch of the road.

Kohn muttered and sank back down into the hole.

Harkland continued his study. He would not have admitted it to his companion, but he was worried. He checked each of the markers he'd identified on their arrival that morning. That jutting tree branch over there, the protruding boulder twenty paces beyond and to the right. He knew exactly how far it was to each one, having paced the distance out personally. He knew every bit of available cover on the killing ground he'd chosen.

What he could not tell Kohn, had not told anybody, was how blurry the details of that landscape had become. He didn't know why it was happening, but it was definitely getting worse. Thus far he'd been able to ignore the implications that were becoming inevitable, but here, standing in a hole in a deserted landscape, with only the uneasy Corporal Kohn for company, it was becoming difficult to escape them.

But Harkland gained a reprieve from his own thoughts as a sound reached him. It was a familiar sound: the clop of horses' hooves on the packed surface of the road. It was still distant, and there was no movement visible on the stretch of road he could see, but his hearing had gotten better of late.

He must have tensed subtly, for Kohn shot up beside him. "What is it?" he said.

"Riders approaching," Harkland said. He turned and began preparing his weapons. Each was already loaded, but he carefully set the priming charges in place. Kohn kept an eye on the road. The sounds of the approaching riders were getting steadily louder.

"Shit," Kohn said.

Harkland slowly rose up until he could see. The formation of riders that had appeared around the bend of the far hill blurred together, but he could see that there were a lot of them, maybe a dozen altogether. That far away he couldn't make out individuals. But they would pass directly below their position, right along the path that the sergeant had marked.

"There's too many of them," Kohn said.

"Do you see our target?" Harkland asked.

"Yeah, hard to miss him in that bright coat and with that hat." He glanced over at Harkland with a curious look on his face.

The sergeant ignored him and slowly lifted one of the muskets, carefully sliding it through the fringe of camouflage they'd prepared. "Just keep the reloads coming," he said.

The riders didn't seem to be in any particular hurry, but neither were they dallying. As they got steadily closer Harkland could see the figure that Kohn had singled out. He couldn't make out the man's face, but the distinctive peaked cap and the bright colors of his coat and the metallic flair upon it were easy to see. It looked as though the enemy colonel's companions included a few lower-ranked officers and an unexpectedly-large security force. Well, it wasn't as if he was the first sniper in this war, Harkland thought.

Kohn was muttering something to himself, maybe a prayer for luck, maybe just a nervous curse. But he opened up the cartridge bag and carefully laid out a handful of the linen bags that each held a precise measure of powder and a single smooth lead ball.

Harkland sighted down the barrel of his musket. Unlike the smoothbores used by the massed infantry formations this was a precious weapon, designed for exactly this purpose. He found the colonel's hat and used it to focus on his target, waiting until the man's horse passed the spot in the road he had mentally marked.

CRACK!

A plume of smoke shot out from the barrel of the gun, briefly obscuring Harkland's vision. But he knew he had scored a hit, had known as soon as the gun had bucked against his shoulder.

"Reload," he ordered, thrusting the spent weapon back. The second musket was in his hand an instant later, and he quickly brought it up to a firing position. The smoke cloud from the first musket was clearing, but it had revealed their position. A few of the enemy troops were already returning fire. They had little chance of a hit from horseback against an emplaced position, but Harkland was still all too aware of the buzzing whisk of the balls or the heavy crack as one struck a rock nearby.

He took in the situation in one quick look. There was a knot of men around the colonel, who'd fallen from his saddle, but most of the riders had split into two wings that were already beginning to circle toward his position. He sighted upon one that had some kind of a metal insignia upon the front of his helmet and fired. The gun kicked and the man tumbled back out of his saddle.

Harkland ducked back down just as another series of shots passed close overhead. "Reload!" he said.

This time, there was no fresh gun thrust into his hand. After a moment Harkland turned to see Kohn lying against the back of the trench, a look of surprise frozen on his face. A red hole trickled a single long drop of blood an inch above his left eye.

"Damn it," Harkland said. Another shot struck the front of his emplacement, dropping a cascade of dirt onto his back. He pulled the last musket out of Kohn's grip. He listened for a moment, letting his mind make sense of the chaos of clattering hooves and shouts from the enemy closing on his position. Finally he sprung up, aimed, and fired. Even as he heard the scream of pain from below he was reaching for another weapon and one of the cartridges, while shots continued to strike around him and the sounds of his remaining foes continued to close in on his position.

* * *

For a moment it looked like Graves and Vanek would be able to hold them at the entry.

The arch was narrow enough that only a few of the zombies could get at them at once. Vanek lacked enough room to really swing his shovel, but he thrust with it like a spear, cracking bones and driving the creatures back. But he wasn't really stopping them, and the things had already shown how little broken bones affected them.

Graves was able to put one of them down, catching it under the jaw and driving it back against the side of the entry. He couldn't hold it long, but he was able to get his weight behind the thrust and drove the wedge-shaped tip of his shovel through its spine. The zombie immediately fell limp as the power animating it fled from its body.

He turned to help Vanek but before he could do anything another creature was lunging at him, treading carelessly over the corpse of the one Graves had just destroyed. He swept his shovel at its head but it intercepted the swing with a raised arm. The shaft of the shovel crashed into its hand, which snapped shut around it. Graves instinctively tried to pull it back but it felt as though the tool had been frozen in concrete. He only barely let go before the zombie tore the shovel away, the shaft shattering in its grip.

Now without a weapon, Graves staggered back a step. A scant pace away to right Vanek was also hard-pressed, giving ground against several of the creatures. For the moment the close quarters of the arch were hindering their movement, but one more step would take them into the interior of the building.

"Here!" someone yelled almost in his ear, causing Graves to jump. He reflexively accepted what was thrust into his hands, only belatedly realizing that it was a musket. It was Squints who had given it to him. "Push the barrel against the center of their heads and pull the trigger!" the nearsighted digger exclaimed. He didn't wait to see whether Graves would obey, turning back to the satchel of guns. Barek handed Squints the second gun, which the latter started loading with a blur of efficient, practiced motions.

Graves's hesitation almost cost them; even as he started to turn the zombie that had stolen his shovel lunged at his exposed back. But Keev stepped in and smacked it with his torch. The flames that splashed over its shoulder did little damage to the thing, but the attack distracted it just long enough for Graves to raise the musket as Squints had directed. He didn't know much about guns, but he knew where the trigger was located.

The crack of the weapon as it was discharged filled the chamber with a deafening clamor. The jolt of the musket almost knocked it out of Graves's hand, and the cloud of smoke it unleashed briefly obscured the incoming horde from view. But that didn't stop him from seeing the zombie as it crumpled to the floor, the entire upper half of its head now missing.

"Swap!" came a voice, and this time Graves accepted the fresh musket with less awkwardness, handing back the empty one. There were plenty of targets, as the zombies hadn't been as startled by the blast of the gun as the diggers had. Graves stepped forward and shoved the barrel against the side of the head of one of the creatures that was trying to get at Vanek. This time he was more prepared for the recoil, and when he stepped back he had to wait for a few seconds as Squints finished loading the first weapon. Barek was helping him by holding the cartridge bag and ramrod for him, but it was Squints who was doing most of the work, moving with a speed that Graves had never seen in all the years they'd worked together. The veteran's hands didn't shake as he drew out the ramrod and added a fresh dab of powder to the priming pan before handing the weapon back to Graves. Again he didn't even glance at the furious battle taking place just a few steps away before starting the process again on the spent weapon.

Graves lost count how many times that exchange took place, or how many times he fired shots into the horde. He did not miss. The zombies' reflexes were slow enough that he had no difficulty firing at point-blank range with each shot. Vanek quickly caught on, luring the creatures into position to be dispatched or lunging in to prevent a follow-up when Graves retreated. Keev stood ready with his torch to provide support if needed, but did not have to attack again.

Finally Graves turned back to the arch with a fresh gun only to realize that there were no more targets. The entry was choked with bodies, and a few of them were still moving, but only feebly. Even as he stood there Vanek stepped up and delivered the _coup de grace_ to one, crushing its neck with a single downward thrust of his shovel. Beyond the mass the night was silent and empty.

"Is that all of them?" Barek asked.

"For now," Graves said.

"How many?" Rajek asked. The injured soldier had managed to stagger to his feet during the fight, but it was obvious that he would not be making any greater contribution anytime soon.

Vanek tried to count but had to give up; the bodies were too jumbled together. "At least a dozen, I'd say."

Rajek looked at Squints, who was still holding the second musket. "I was right, you _have_ done this before," he said. "You'd be Sergeant Hark, then."

For a moment the other diggers looked at their companion with new eyes, but Squints just stood there a moment, then lowered the loaded musket. "We might not have very long of a respite," he said.

Vanek nodded. "Every zombie on the battlefield would have heard those shots," he said. "Assuming they can hear."

Graves picked up the shovel that Ponzen had dropped, then turned to Squints. "How much ammunition do you have left?"

Squints didn't bother checking the cartridge bag. "Roughly half a dozen shots," he said.

Graves shifted his gaze to Keev. "Can you put that marking back up? The protection from evil?"

Keev swallowed. "It didn't work earlier, when I tried to fix it. I'm not even sure why it worked the first time, to be honest. What I told... what I said before was true, I'm not a warlock or a wizard or anything."

"Just try your best," Graves said. "That mess may slow them, but it won't keep them out for long."

"Maybe it's time we got going from here," Barek said. "I don't like the idea of having my back up against the wall, literally."

"Out there we have no protection," Vanek said. "At least in here we can hold them off, put a dent in their numbers."

"No offense, old man, but putting a dent is all we're doing," Barek said. "I may not be as sharp as you lot, but I can count just as good as you."

"We might have to leave, but we won't get far as things currently go," Graves said. "Rajek's still in bad shape, and none of us are exactly ready for a sprint through the hills."

Barek looked at him for a long moment before he nodded. "You're in charge of this crew, Graves. But what's your plan?"

"For now, Vanek, keep an eye out. I want to take a look at this thing Squints had found before we were attacked."

While Vanek stepped over the ruined bodies choking the archway, careful of any that might have some life left in them, Squints, Barek, and Graves went over to the back of the room. The rubble was thicker there, but they quickly found what they were looking for. It was a heavy bronze plate, set into a lintel built into the floor. Graves cleared away some of the loose debris that covered it so he could examine it more closely.

The bronze was covered in a patina, like Barek's sword, but unlike the weapon the plate was more or less fully intact and obviously durable. There was no handle, no obvious hinges that offered a suggestion for how to get it open. When Graves tried to jam the blade of his shovel under the rim to pry it open, he could not find even the slightest purchase.

"Where do you think it goes?" Squints asked.

"I have no idea," Graves said. "But it seems..."

He didn't get to finish, as a soft call from across the room drew their attention. "Something's coming!" Vanek warned. The old man was retreating across the mess of bodies.

Graves looked at Keev, who'd risen and was standing next to the entry. "Any luck?" he asked.

Keev shook his head. "I couldn't... the Mark, it takes something from the one... I'm sorry."

Graves turned back to Squints and Barek. "Get it open," he said, then he hefted his shovel and hurried back to the entry.

For a moment the two men just stared at the plate. "Get it open," Barek said. "Makes it sound easy." He looked over at his companion. "Can you shoot it, maybe?"

Squints drew back the musket reflexively. "That would be... no," he said. "Perhaps you should try prying it open."

"Graves didn't have much luck with that," the big man said, but after a moment he drew his sword and began looking for a place where he could work it in under the plate. After a moment he found something, a spot where a gap in the surrounding stonework had left a tiny niche. "Here, hold this," he said, offering up his torch. He carefully wedged his new weapon in, working it back and forth until it ran up against something hard and stopped. Then, carefully at first but with more effort, he began trying to pry up the plate. For a moment he thought he might have felt something start to shift, but then the blade snapped off with a loud ping.

"Damn it!" he cursed.

"Work faster!" Graves yelled from the entrance. He, Vanek, and Keev had all gathered around the arch, and while none of the dead had made an appearance yet, the tension of their crewmates communicated quite clearly to the two men at the plate.

"Bloody hell!" Barek said. He shot an accusative look at Squints. "Great idea, there."

"Maybe you can use what's left," Squints suggested.

"And how am I supposed to get it in there?"

Squints scrunched up his face in thought, then his eyes grew wide. "The sledge," he said.

He hurried back across the room, and after a hurried search found the discarded hammer. It wasn't much of a weapon, its thick iron head heavy and awkward, but it was a perfectly suited tool.

"Here, better let me have it, or you'll probably cave my bloody head in," Barek said. Squints didn't hesitate, taking the broken hilt of the sword and holding it in place so the fragment of blade would enter the niche in the stone when struck. "Don't miss," he said.

Barek nodded, and after a moment swung the hammer. He didn't give it a full stroke, partly because he didn't want to shatter what was left of the sword, but it was enough to drive the remains of the weapon deep into the niche. They were rewarded with a soft sound, a hiss of air.

"Time!" Graves called.

"We're getting it, you're not fucking helping!" Barek shot back. He looked at Squints, who stepped back. There was only room for one of them to make the effort. Barek took hold of the hilt of the sword, checked to make sure it was securely set, and then heaved.

Barek might have been lazy, but he was strong. Muscles stood out on his back and arms and neck as he exerted himself. For a moment it looked like even that wouldn't be enough, but then with a creak of metal and another hiss of air the hatch rose up a few scant inches. Squints was there in a second, thrusting the end of his musket into the gap. Barek let go, and the two men repositioned themselves on opposite sides of the slab. Again they shared a quick look and a nod before heaving at it together. The metal plate offered a few more seconds of resistance before it popped clear of its stone anchor to reveal a dark opening beneath it. Squints quickly shot out a foot to catch the musket before it could slide into that black.

"We got it!" Barek said.

"What's down there?" Graves asked.

Barek kicked a loose rock into the hole. It vanished but he quickly heard a clatter of impact. Squints handed him the torch, and the big digger thrust it down into the hole. Its sputtering light was just barely enough to reveal a bare stone floor maybe fifteen feet below. Other than that, there were no other details visible.

The two men turned as the others came up. All of them were there, even Rajek. The injured soldier looked like only sheer will was keeping him upright, Barek's cloak draped over him like a shroud. "We're not going to hold them at the arch?" Squints asked.

"Half a dozen bullets isn't going to stop them this time," Vanek said.

"So what's down there?" Graves repeated.

"A floor," Barek said. "That's all we can see at the moment... and no easy way back up."

"For the moment, a floor will have to be enough," Graves said. He checked back over his shoulder but they could all hear the sounds being made by the approaching zombies now, the familiar shuffles and soft moans. None had appeared in the arch yet, but it was obviously only a matter of time.

"We need to send someone down to check," Graves said. "Keev."

"What?" he said.

"It makes sense," Vanek said. "You're small enough that if we do have to pull you back up, at least there's a chance."

"I'll lower him down," Squints said. He knelt beside the opening in the floor.

Keev went to toss the torch down first, but Graves stopped him. "We can't risk having it go out," he said. "I'll hand it down as soon as you're down there."

Keev stared at him on response, his eyes wide, but Barek pushed him hard on the shoulder. "We're on a tight timeline here."

Keev lowered himself into the hole. He dropped down until only his upper body was still hanging on the lintel, then Squints grabbed hold and dropped him further. Barek held onto the nearsighted digger's legs, but it wasn't necessary; Keev dangled for just a moment before letting out an alarmed squeak and dropping to the floor below.

Squints scrambled back up, and Graves held out the torch. "Everything okay?"

"There's nothing down here," Keev said. "Throw down the torch!"

"Okay. Here it comes," Graves said. He turned to the others. "Come on, we need to get down there."

Vanek and Squints made quick work of the descent, dropping down to hold onto the edge by their fingertips before releasing to drop the final six or seven feet to the floor. They both rolled on impact and came up quickly, joining the still wide-eyed Keev.

"You're next, Rajek," Graves said.

"First give me my cloak back," Barek said.

"Just forget about the damned cloak!" Vanek yelled up, but Rajek went ahead and handed over the document. Barek deliberately wrapped it around him before he grabbed hold of the injured soldier and lowered him into the hole. The big man grunted with effort as he slowly dropped him until Vanek and Squints could take hold of him from below and ease him to the floor of the chamber below. They did their best to be careful, but Rajek still let out a cry of pain as the movement jostled his broken arm.

Once he was down and clear Vanek looked back up at the opening fifteen feet above the floor where he stood. "You guys okay up there?"

"Stand clear!" Graves ordered. Vanek jumped back a moment before first a shovel, then the heavy sledgehammer dropped to the floor. "Here, grab the musket!" Graves said, dropping to his belly to carefully hand the weapon down to Vanek. But instead of following it down he shimmied back up and disappeared. A moment later they could all hear a loud scraping of metal.

"What's going on?" Keev asked.

Before anyone could respond Barek dropped into view, barely slowing himself on the edge before he shot down and landed on the hard bare stone. He managed to roll but came up a bit slowly. They could all now hear the sounds of the zombies, louder now, inside the chamber with the last member of their company.

"Graves!" Vanek hissed.

In response the man appeared, his feet dangling through the hole. He was doing something, but they didn't have a chance to see what it was before he came plummeting downward. Squints and Vanek tried to catch him but they were distracted by a loud metallic slam as the plate that he and Barek had carefully balanced fell back into place. Graves slipped from his companions' grasp and fell to the floor. The air was thick with dust, and he coughed as the others helped him back to his feet.

"Where... where are we?" he asked.

The answer came from Barek, who'd advanced into the center of the space. "Take a look around and see where your brilliant plan has landed us." He carried the second torch, swinging it around him in a broad arc. The weak light was just enough to reveal that they were in an empty stone vault, with no way out and the air already starting to feel stale.

* * * * *

Chapter 12

Graves could feel a tightening in his gut, but he forced himself to keep his face neutral and his voice even. "All right, let's stay calm here, everyone. Spread out, take a look around."

As Squints, Keev, Barek, and even Rajek began to search the empty interior of the underground chamber, Graves turned to Vanek. "What do we have left?"

Vanek did a quick inventory. "The two guns, just a couple of shots for each from what Squints said earlier," he said quietly. "Two torches, but they won't last much longer. Two shovels, counting mine. The one hammer. Maybe a few swallows of water."

He didn't offer any other comment, but Graves didn't need more to hear the unspoken conclusion. _And that's it_ , he thought. A few tools and weapons to supplement their fading strength and their wits, against an enemy that didn't get tired or sick or afraid. At the moment, Graves was feeling all of those things, and he knew that was just the beginning if Barek's assessment of their situation proved accurate.

"Over here," Squints said, drawing Graves's attention from those dark musings back to the present.

They went over to where the others had gathered around the center of the wall opposite where they'd come in. "What did you find?" Graves asked.

"This wall isn't stone blocks like the rest," Squints said. "It's masonry work, been bricked up."

Graves took a look, running his fingers over the rough, distinctive texture of the wall. "Good find." He looked over at Keev, who was giving the wall an even closer examination, his cheek nearly pressed up against the bricks. He seemed preoccupied, with a distant look on his face. "What is it, Keev?" Graves asked.

Keev pulled back quickly. "Nothing," he said.

Graves reached out and took hold of the young digger's arm before he could retreat. "Look," he said. "Whatever happened above, forget it. We all have to work together to have a chance of getting out of here alive. If you sense something, you have to tell us, let us know."

Keev looked indecisive for a long moment before he finally nodded. "I felt... I'm not sure. For a moment... I guess Barek would call it one of my 'bad feelings.'"

"I'm learning to trust those," Graves said, "but at the moment we only have one option left to us. There's no way back up even if we wanted to go that way, and we'll run out of air in here pretty quick." He turned to the others and nodded to Vanek, who had recovered the sledge. "I think you're the best one," Graves said to Barek.

The big man considered for a moment then accepted the handle of the heavy hammer. "Here, do something useful for a change and hold this," he said, offering his torch to Rajek.

"I've got a broken arm, asshole," Rajek said. "At least I fought the things."

Barek smirked at the soldier. "And look where that got you, eh?"

"Already limited air in here without you two idiots choosing this moment to hiss at each other like cats," Vanek pointed out.

"Just getting my blood up," Barek said. He shot one more look at Rajek before he hefted the hammer, forcing the others to quickly step back before he slammed it into the wall.

The solid iron head of the hammer crashed repeatedly into the wall, filling the room with even more dust as bricks shattered under the impact. For a moment the wall seemed to resist his efforts, but Barek kept delivering pulverizing blows to the same spot, one after the other until he'd cleared a small space.

As he took a brief breather Vanek leaned in for a look. "Somebody really put a lot of effort into this," he said. Graves stepped past him to see for himself and saw that the wall was at least a few layers thick, with more bricks behind the outer ones that Barek had just broken through.

"All right, get out the way and let me do this," Barek said. The dust that choked the interior of the vault might have served as a reminder of their limited supply of air, for he kept on slamming the wall, widening his breach, until finally the head of the hammer crashed through into some kind of open space. As the big digger drew back to recover his wind, Squints leaned forward and peered into the breach.

"You... _see_ anything?" Barek hissed at him.

Squints ignored him and listened, then sniffed at the air. "Fresher air," he said. "It's moving... something else."

"What?" Keev asked.

The other man shook his head. "Can't place it. Smells... old."

"Well, at least we've got another option now," Graves said. "Squints, maybe you can take a turn on the..."

"I've got it," Barek said. He lifted the hammer again, staring at the wall as if it was a personal enemy before he resumed his assault upon the barrier.

When the last piece of brick finally clattered and bounced to the floor, quiet returned to the underground complex. For a moment that silence stretched out with the expectant huddle of intense listening. But nothing stirred to disturb it. Since the diggers had entered the sealed portion of the ruin, replacing the cover plate behind them, it seemed almost as if the world above had ceased to exist.

Within the interior room that the brick wall had warded a light flickered, slipping through the dark opening that Barek had battered through the barrier. It was followed by a pale arm, and then a body, and finally a face. Graves held the flickering torch aloft, the pitch-coated wood already beginning to falter. But the tentative flame was enough to reveal some of the secrets of this new chamber.

The place had the immediate look of a crypt, even leaving aside the mood set by their recent clashes with the restless dead. The walls were broken by low arches that peaked at barely a man's height, but the alcoves that might have extended underneath them had been bricked up much like the entry they had just breached. Of more immediate interest was a set of broad stone steps that descended directly opposite. Another arch rose above those stairs, with a capstone that drew Graves's eyes. There were faint marks there, too faded to make out but still somehow familiar.

His exploration was distracted by the sound of the others struggling through the narrow gap behind him. Barek had the most difficulty, the big man grunting as he tore more of the bricks away with his passage. But finally they had all reunited in this new chamber, studying the stairs dubiously.

"Looks like we go down," Vanek said.

"So much for fresh air," Barek said, with a side look at Squints.

They continued forward and down, each feeling a sense of urgency as the light from the torches grew steadily dimmer. The stairs didn't descend for very far, but they passed several more of the bricked-up alcoves to either side before they reached another, larger chamber.

This one was the largest yet, bigger even than the interior room of the building where they'd faced the dead above. Even when they lifted the torches high above their heads they could only barely make out the ceiling, which rose in a pair of high vaults buttressed by thick arcs of curving stone. The familiar alcoves were present here as well, marching down the length of the room. They framed a broad dais in the center of the space, a stone platform maybe three feet high. As they advanced they could make out a simple altar made of a few large blocks of stone roughly in the center of that raised space. Pillars as thick around as an old oak tree flanked the altar, connecting the edges of the platform to the ceiling above. Their torchlight flickered on reliefs carved into those pillars, their designs too faded to make out from a distance.

"Don't touch anything," Vanek said into the quiet. The warning was unnecessary as the diggers shuffled forward.

"What is this place?" Keev asked, a bit too loudly as his voice echoed weirdly through the chamber.

"Well, it isn't a bloody tavern-hall," Barek growled. The big man looked nervous, jumpy, his hammer clutched against his chest like a talisman.

"Keep an eye open for a way out," Graves said. "A draft of air, anything."

As they made their way slowly around the perimeter of the room it became clear that there were no obvious exits. The bricked-over alcoves might be breached with effort, but their immediate attention was drawn to the central space and the altar. The side of the platform that faced the rear of the chamber—assuming the stairs they'd descended marked the front—had a pair of stone steps etched into it that allowed easier access to the top. The alcove behind it was the deepest yet, ending in a natural stone wall rather than a brick add-on. There were some things there, a clutter of what looked like clay canisters about the size of a man's leg, along with some scraps that might have once been something made of wood or cloth that had been consumed by time long ago. Vanek headed over that way to take a closer look.

Graves found himself up atop the platform, though he didn't remember making a conscious decision to walk in that direction. Barek and Squints followed behind him, looking for anything interesting. But the only thing of note was the altar, a slab of pale sandstone propped atop two lesser pieces of common granite. It too was covered with markings, a pattern of gouges that looked as though they'd been made with a chisel. They were arranged in a pattern that might have been crude letters. Graves felt drawn to the altar, his attention focused on the marks.

"Barek!" Vanek called. "Over here."

After giving the altar one more look as if to make sure there weren't any piles of gold coins or other treasures hidden around it, the big man turned and retraced his steps back down to the alcove. Vanek had taken out a small folding knife and had used it to break some of the seals on the clay vessels. They were oddly shaped, their thickest point in the center that closed to narrow points at each end. They had been sealed with wax, broken bits of which were scattered around Vanek's knees. He leaned in and took a whiff from the one he currently had open in his lap, drawing back swiftly to shake his head.

"I don't suppose you found wine in there," Barek asked.

"If there was, it would be the strongest vinegar you'd ever tasted in your life by now," the old man replied with a snort. "Most of them are empty, but this one contains a bit of oil, I think. Ancient, and quite pungent, but it should still burn."

"Good for you?" Barek asked.

"Good for all of us. Give me your cloak."

Barek's eyes narrowed. "What for?"

"Torches," Rajek said. "That's a good idea. Cut into strips and soaked in oil, that thick wool would burn a good while."

"I'm not giving you my cloak to chop up and burn," Barek said.

Vanek put down his knife and fixed Barek with a hard look. "Do you want to be caught in the dark when the torches burn out?" He nodded toward the failing brand held by Rajek. "Think about the things we've already faced tonight, and think about coming upon more like that in the dark."

Barek looked around as if seeking another alternative to Vanek's plan, but he finally took off the heavy cloak, grumbling under his breath.

"You can always steal another one later, if we get out of here alive," Rajek said.

"Shut before I break your other arm," Barek said.

"Who's got the other shovel?" Vanek asked. "Ah, go get it from Keev."

"Why don't you use your own damned shovel?" Barek asked.

Vanek's gaze was steely. "Because it's mine," he said.

Graves stood over the altar, staring at the letters. He had recognized the pattern they formed, and while the markings were crude, once he had identified the language he could make sense of them with a bit of effort. "Keev," he said. "Bring that other torch over here."

Keev paused to hand over his shovel to a very irate Barek, then came over to hold the torch near the altar. With the added light Graves could see better, and with his finger traced over the letters. "You can read that?" Keev asked.

"It's old Gavarian," Graves said. "I know some of that language."

"It sounds like there might be a story there," Squints said.

Graves shot him a look. "Another time."

"What does it say?" Keev asked.

"It's difficult to make out. This inscription here... I think it's a name. Ilha'duin."

"That sounds pretty creepy," Squints said. "Is he the guy who built this place?"

"Maybe... but I don't think he wrote this," Graves said. "There seems to be some sort of invocation against the powers of darkness. Saying that it should be... or will be... kept penned up in here."

"Maybe the spell wore off," Squints suggested. He looked over at Keev. "Any chance you could do something with one of those magic marks of yours?"

Keev shook his head. "I don't understand any of this. Even the mark against evil that I learned, Ta—the person I learned it from never mentioned anything like this."

Squints looked at him for a moment longer before returning his eyes to the altar, where Graves was continuing his examination of the inscription. "Does it say anything else?" Squints asked.

Graves ran his finger to the bottom of the stone. "There's something here about the 'power of the light,' against which the darkness cannot stand."

"Maybe that's the key, light," Squints said.

"Those zombies didn't seem bothered by our torches," Keev said.

"Maybe it wasn't strong enough," Graves said. "Remember that one we found in the ruins above yesterday afternoon. At the time we thought it had been dumped there..."

"But maybe it just got caught by the rising sun," Squints said, finishing the thought. "Hey, maybe that means if we can make it to sunrise, we can get out of here."

Graves nodded. "First we have to make it out of this crypt alive."

There was a soft pop behind them, and the three of them turned to see Barek holding up a shovel that was ablaze with flames. The blade of the tool had been wrapped with strips of oil-soaked wool, which was the source of the popping sound as it caught fire. They each caught a hint of a slightly rancid smell as the ancient fuel was consumed. The initial burst quickly drew down to a more muted flicker, which bolstered the pale glow from their nearly-spent torches.

"Ah... Graves..." Squints said. He was staring down at the altar with a look of alarm on his face. Graves turned back to see that the runes had started glowing softly, just barely enough to make it clear that it wasn't some trick of the torchlight. The silvery radiance lasted just a few heartbeats, intensifying until it limned the faces of the three men before it abruptly vanished.

"Oh, that can't be good," Keev said.

"Did you do anything?" Squints asked.

"No! I didn't even touch it!" Keev said. He sent a slightly accusatory look at Graves, but the crew leader looked just as baffled.

"Everything all right up there?" Vanek asked. Barek and Rajek flanked him, perhaps also sensing that something was wrong.

In response, a faint shudder seemed to pass through the complex, a trembling that they felt through the stone of the platform before it vanished as abruptly as the glow on the altar. "No," Graves said. "I don't think so."

* * * * *

Chapter 13

The other members of the crew joined Graves, Keev, and Squints on the platform, sensing that something really bad was about to happen.

They were not disappointed. "Look!" Keev said, pointing at one of the bricked-up vaults. The gesture was completely unnecessary; they could all see it, a soft glow that radiated from the mortared gaps between the bricks. That radiance grew steadily brighter, until for a moment the bricks themselves seemed to become almost translucent. As it had with the altar markings the glow was only temporary, fading away to reveal that all of the vaults now gaped open, the barriers dissolved as if they had never been there at all.

The vaults extended around the perimeter of the room, maybe a dozen altogether. The light of the diggers' torches didn't quite reach into those low-ceilinged niches, but they could make out the vague outlines of blocky forms within, perhaps burial tombs or some other simple construction. None of the men watching volunteered to investigate; they held their ground and waited for the other shoe to drop.

Again they did not have long to wait. A grinding of stone issued from the alcoves, followed by a soft scraping that by that point was becoming all too familiar. The intruders froze, clutching their weapons or muttering prayers under their breaths. A few glanced over at Graves, but the crew leader seemed as caught up in the moment as the rest of them. In any case, there was nothing they could have done; the sounds were coming from all of the vaults and if they'd tried to enter one to interrupt whatever grim ritual was developing they would have left themselves vulnerable from every other direction. The stone platform didn't offer much in the way of defense, but it at least gave them some small rampart to cling to.

A loud crash of stone striking stone caused them to jump, though the sound could not have been unexpected. Another thud followed a moment later, and then another. But even as the sounds of tombs being opened continued the first occupants of the crypt came into view.

This time Keev didn't point out the obvious; he was too consumed with terror to speak. The figures that emerged from the vaults moved slowly, shuffling out from the back of the low alcoves until they could straighten to their full height. At first they resembled the zombies, but as the torchlight reached them the diggers could see that these walking corpses were much, much older. Their bodies were clad in the remains of cloth, somehow treated to resist the decay of the centuries since they had been laid here to rest. As they moved those scraps parted to reveal desiccated flesh beneath. Their heads were covered in drapes that framed faces that were visages of horror. Their flesh was as tight and faded as their garments, pulled tight over their skulls like gloves that were a few sizes too small. Their eyes were gone, but somehow each of the intruders could feel the intensity of those empty gazes on them like a physical pressure. There was something in those stares that seemed... hungry.

"Gods spare us, gods spare us, gods spare us," Rajek was muttering. He was clenching his crippled arm with a grip that had to be sending shoots of agony up the limb, but he did not seem to notice.

More of the withered creatures were coming into view, one or two emerging from each vault. The crack of stone slabs being pushed off of their tombs had ceased, and now the only sounds were the crackle of the torches, the shuffle of the creatures' halting steps, and the harsh rattle of the diggers' breathing.

"We have to..." Graves said, his words choking off on a suddenly dry throat. The others all looked at him, unable to say or do anything more as the first of the creatures shambled forward to the edge of the dais.

* * *

Barek was sweaty and exhausted. As he made his way back through the southern paddock he had to be careful of his steps, since his legs felt like someone had tied heavy weights to them. The tools in his hands likewise felt like they'd doubled in weight since he'd set out with them shortly after lunch. The sun had dropped over the uneven line of hills to the west, and the evening breeze had already stirred to life, causing the moisture on his skin to chill like tiny bits of ice. Just moments ago his body had felt uncomfortably warm, but now he shivered as he hurried back to the workhouse.

He cleaned his tools first and made sure they were properly racked in their slots on the wall beside the door. That lesson had been battered into his skull so thoroughly it was like an instinct. Next he went to the sink on the far side of the room. The blisters on his hands complained as he worked the pump handle, but he ignored both them and the gnawing pangs of hunger from his empty belly. What he wanted to do was skip the washing up and go directly into the house, maybe stop off at the kitchen and snag a few of Coldar's glazed buns hot from the oven. Just the thought caused his mouth to water.

But he knew better than to give in to the temptation. He pulled off his shirt and rinsed himself off before grabbing the lye cake on the tray next to the sink. At fourteen he was already almost as big as some of the hired men that worked his father's ranch, but he was still rather lanky from his ongoing spurt of adolescent growth. He was just starting to fill out the muscles that would eventually make him as solidly built as his father, but for the moment he still had the awkward uncertainty of someone living in a body that was undergoing constant and comprehensive renovations.

Once was clean he dried off and grabbed a fresh shirt from the rack a few steps away inside the barracks room. None of the ranch crew were there at the moment. They'd all be coming in from the fields now, heading in to repeat the rituals he'd just completed. Or maybe they already had, and even now they were sitting down around the long table in the dining room next to Coldar's kitchen to dig in.

That thought had Barek speeding his steps. The way his father worked his men they always had a ferocious appetite. And his own status as the son of the house would not ensure that there was anything left if he was late.

He went back outside, but as he hurried across the courtyard toward the main house one of the ranch hands appeared from around the feed barn and noticed him. "Hey, Barek. Your father wants to see you. Out at the south paddock."

Barek's already-empty stomach seemed to drop even lower in his gut. He was close enough to the door now that he could smell the rich scents of Coldar's cooking. "Right now, Curley?"

Curley—who, naturally, was completely bald—shrugged. "You know your da."

"Yeah. Okay, I'm coming."

Barek had a few moments for his sense of dread to build before he came around the bulk of the barn and could see the site where he'd spent all afternoon. Standing over by the gate in the old fence and the feeding troughs was his father. A few of his hands were idling against the fence a few dozen paces away, carefully attending to their own business. They weren't there by accident, Barek thought with an inner sigh. They were there to be an audience for this.

"Barek," his father said as he approached. "What is this?"

Barek looked through the gate at what his father indicated. "It's a fence post, sir."

His father extended a thick arm and pointed a finger at his chest. "Don't you sass me, boy. I told you how to lay these posts."

"Yes sir," Barek said reflexively. "I paced them off just like you said..."

"I didn't say anything about the distance between them. How many times have I told you about the importance of quality in your work?"

He didn't wait for an answer, turning and going over to the post. Barek knew what was coming, but he still flinched slightly as his father... _attacked_ the fence post. That was the only word that fit as the big man pushed at the post, kicked it with his heavy boots, then yanked it back and forth until the earth that Barek had carefully packed around its base flew into the air. Finally he stood back, letting the post topple over onto the loose dirt.

"You know what happens when a fence goes down, boy? You lose stock. _I_ lose stock. The way you put those in, a good blow would take them down. The entire damned paddock would be open to the bloody world. Do you know how much of my money goes into a half-score of stock?"

Barek did know, but he knew better than to say anything.

His father glanced over at him as if he thought he might venture a response, then he resumed pacing back and forth. "Maybe you don't give a shit about those sorts of questions, but this ranch is our family's livelihood. You want to end up like one of those ignorant assholes over there? Do you?"

That seemed to demand a response, so Barek shook his head.

"I reckon not," his father said with a snort. "You're going to do this job proper. All of it."

He stepped back and gestured, and for the first moment in the failing light Barek realized that _all_ of the posts he'd laid, the entire length of the south paddock from this gate to the stream a few hundred paces distant, had been torn up out of the ground. An entire afternoon's work wasted.

Barek's father stepped directly in front of him, forcing him to look up into his face. "You understand me, boy?" he asked.

"Yes, father."

He started to turn away, turn back toward the house, but he was arrested by an iron grip on his shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?"

Barek blinked in surprise. "Dinner, sir... it's almost dark." He realized his mistake then, but it was too late to take the words back.

Still holding him, his father called out to the men standing on the fence. "Kevak!" he yelled. "Do I pay a man his wage for fucking up a job?"

"No, Mister Tomkins," the ranch hand replied.

"No," Barek's father said. "You'll eat when the job's done and not before. You know where the lanterns are located. And the cost of the oil is coming out of your allowance."

Barek could not remember actually ever seeing any of his allowance, but he had no difficulty silencing the impish part of his mind that suggested pointing that out. Not that it really mattered; his father was already walking away, his men falling behind them.

As soon as they were out of view, Curley appeared from around the far side of the barn. He was carrying a mattock and the post maul, along with a shuttered lantern that let out only a tiny flicker of light.

"Rough break," Curley said, propping the tools against the gate before setting the lantern on the thick hinge post. "I'll see if I can sneak you out a roll or something."

"Better not," Barek said. "We'll both get it if he finds out. Thanks for bringing this stuff out. Go on, you'll miss your supper."

The ranch hand offered a final apologetic shrug before heading back in. Barek watched until he was gone before turning to pick up the maul. It still felt extra-heavy. For a moment he just held that familiar heft in his hand, then he turned and walked back to the first of the fallen fence posts.

* * *

Graves thought that nothing could compete with the terror he'd felt when that first dead soldier had loomed over him after killing Sorles, but he'd been wrong. Somehow these withered husks, which had been living men many centuries before he'd been born, were worse.

They moved a bit awkwardly, their movements stiff and their shredded garments clinging to their bodies, but they were obviously as strong as their fresher kin, to have lifted the stone lids off their tombs. The first one fumbled a bit as it reached the edge of the platform and began to pull itself up, with several others just a few steps back. The things formed a ring around them that was steadily closing, giving them only moments to respond.

Unexpectedly, it was Barek who stepped forward. He thrust his shovel-torch at Vanek. "Hold this."

"Barek..." the old man began.

"Just stay the fuck back!" the big man barked at him. "Stay out of my way," he added, then strode forward toward the undead thing.

It saw him coming and lurched up to meet him. But its bony right foot scraped on the edge of the dais as it tried to stand, hindering it just for a moment.

A moment was all Barek needed. He brought the sledgehammer up in both hands, and with a guttural roar he drove it down with all his strength down onto the center of its head. The impact shattered bone and shot the fragments of its skull and spine down into the empty sack of its torso. The thing collapsed in on itself like an overfull wineskin that had been punctured, and it slumped back to topple off the edge of the dais.

Barek didn't stop. He took two steps to the side and swung the hammer at the next one. The solid iron head shattered the arm that came up to block him, barely slowing before it caromed off its skull. The creature's head was knocked clear and went flying back into the vaults, where it bounced around with a dull clatter. But Barek was already moving on to the next in line.

As the big digger wielded his hammer the rest of the crew turned to face the creatures coming up from behind. Squints brought his musket up but hesitated; Graves realized that he probably saw only vague blurs in the half-light of the crypt. Vanek took a step forward but with a shovel in each hand, one serving as their main source of light, he couldn't immediately be effective in defense.

Graves settled the matter by moving ahead of both of them, hoping his own musket had survived the rough treatment of the last fight and their descent into the underground complex. He didn't have much time to think about it, as the mummies on that side had taken full advantage of the distraction of Barek's charge and two of them were already rising to their feet after gaining the dais. Graves stepped forward and targeted the one on the left. By now he was well used to the guns' heavy kick, but the echoing bang seemed louder and the cloud of smoke even thicker in the close confines of the crypt. But through the blast he could see the pieces of the mummy launched in every direction as the lead ball smashed through the center of its chest. He realized that he must have gotten lucky and hit it someplace important like the breastbone or the spine; in the heat of the moment he'd forgotten Squints' advice to target the creatures in the head.

He turned to look for Squints but the former sergeant was already there, offering his loaded weapon. Graves took it and turned to face the second mummy, but Vanek beat him to it. The old man had finally compromised with his burdens by laying the burning shovel on the edge of the altar before charging at the thing with the other. He went for its neck as he had the zombies earlier, but he was reminded of how strong these things were as it got an arm up and deflected the blow. They could hear its bones snapping like dried twigs, but that didn't stop it from smacking the dangling, flopping limb across the old man's face. Even robbed of much of its strength the blow still spun Vanek around before he toppled over onto the hard ground.

Graves let out a yell that surprised himself. Rushing forward, he thrust the barrel of the musket at the mummy's face and pulled the trigger. But instead of a blast of smoke and metal all he got was a dull hiss from the weapon. Surprised, he only barely got clear as the thing lunged at him with its still-intact arm. He brought the musket up reflexively, but it only grabbed hold of the gun and yanked it out of his grasp. With a single violent motion it slammed the end of the weapon down on the floor, shattering the stock and ruining the firing mechanism.

Graves quickly retreated from the thing, but he only had a step or two before the bulk of the altar was at his back. The mummy followed him, moving more quickly now on the flat stone surface of the dais, but even as it reached for him Squints shoved the second musket against the base of its skull and blew its head off its neck.

Graves let out a gasp of relief and looked around. His distraction had given Keev the opportunity to dart in and pull Vanek back to his feet, and the pair rejoined them at the altar. Keev still had his torch, though the pitch was almost completely consumed and only a few tentative flickers of flame remained.

"You okay?" Graves asked the old man.

Vanek coughed. "Great, just great," he said.

They had gained a brief respite, but more of the creatures had already clambered up onto the edge of the dais. Several others had circled around to the back where the carved stone steps offered an easier route to the top. Graves reached down and picked up the shovel-torch from the altar to replace his musket. It wasn't much of a weapon, but they were running out of options.

"Take as many of those bastards with you as you can!" Vanek said.

The diggers tensed, but before they could convince themselves to follow Vanek's suggestion Barek rejoined the fight. He'd circled almost entirely around the perimeter of the dais, smashing mummies as he went, and now he caromed into the ones that were approaching the central altar. He ducked a swipe from one and swung his hammer up into a massive blow that caught it in the side of its torso. The creatures, for all their unnatural strength, were significantly lighter than a normal man with all of their internal organs rotted away, and the thing went flying across the room before smacking into the wall and collapsing to the ground in front of one of the empty crypts.

Barek, consumed with an almost berserker fury, flew into the midst of the mummies coming up the steps onto the platform. He brought his hammer down onto the one in the center, the iron head striking with an impact that echoed the very first blow he'd inflicted at the start of the melee. The mummy crumpled under that assault and toppled backward.

Barek tried to bring the hammer back to deal with the others, but the weapon was heavy and awkward and the big man was clearly getting tired. The undead creatures to either side of the one he'd just crushed were on him in a flash, seizing hold of his upper body and gouging nasty gashes in the exposed skin of his neck and arms with their bony fingertips. Barek tried to pull free, but the creatures were too strong to tear off him. He tried to bring the hammer up to smash one, but a third mummy seized hold of it, freezing it in place.

Another second and the digger would have been torn to pieces. But before the undead monstrosities could exploit their advantage Barek's companions came to his aid. Graves smashed one in the back of the head with the burning shovel. Bone cracked and the thing released its grip, bits of flaming oil clinging to its withered hide. It turned toward the crew leader, but even as it extended its fingers toward this new adversary the frayed bits of cloth covering it caught fire. The upper part of the creature turned into a pyre that continued to pursue Graves as he led the creature back toward the altar.

Vanek attacked the one on the other side of Barek. He used his shovel as a spike that drove into the creature's shoulder, nearly severing its arm. That gave Barek enough leverage to push the thing off him, knocking it over onto its back. His hammer was still in the grip of the last mummy, but it couldn't do anything with its prize before Squints thrust his gun into its face and blew it to pieces with an explosive gout of smoke and flame.

Graves's burning foe continued to press him, waving its arms as it tried to get hold of him. Apparently being on fire didn't interfere with its perceptions, but it made it an earlier target as Keev came up behind it and slammed the heavy barrel of the broken musket into its knees. The impact buckled its limbs and knocked it to the floor. It immediately tried to get up again, but both men laid into it before it could rise, smashing the shovel and the musket barrel repeatedly into its spine before it finally collapsed and stopped moving.

* * * * *

Chapter 14

Breathing heavily, Graves looked around. All the attacks with the shovel had put out most of the oil-soaked strips of wool that had still clung to the blade, but the flames that continued to consume the destroyed mummy gave enough light for him to see that the others had put an end to the last of the things. Barek was bleeding from several cuts, but none of them looked too serious. "Everyone okay?" Graves asked. "Barek, you holding up?"

"You should get those cuts washed out, when we find some water," Squints said as he reloaded his musket.

"I would literally kill you for a beer right now," Barek said.

"I'd go for anything cool," Rajek said. The torch he was holding was almost out, and the man looked to be almost on the same threshold of failing. He sat down heavily on the altar, heedless of the magical runes and whatever fell potency they might still have.

"Thirst may not be the worst of our problems," Vanek said. "The air in here's getting pretty bad."

They all looked at the smoldering mummy, which was continuing to pour acrid smoke into a chamber already thick with the discharges from their muskets and the smoke from their torches.

"At this point, I think I prefer the zombie-infested camp to this," Barek said.

"We need to find a way out of here," Graves said. "But we need light."

"I had some extra oil-soaked cloths, I'll refresh that," Vanek said, indicating the shovel-torch that Graves held. Taking the tool, he headed back to the alcove that held the amphoras.

Squints came over holding the loaded musket. "It's the last shot," he said, offering it to Graves.

"You keep it," Graves said. "At the range we need, your vision isn't a problem. Make it count."

Squints nodded.

"Hey, the smoke, it's moving," Keev said.

The others all followed his lead and stared at the swirling currents in the clouded air. "Could be a draft," Graves said. "Check the room again, maybe there was another way out behind those bricked-up walls."

It didn't take long to conduct the search, especially once Vanek brought the renewed torch over and they could use its smoke to trace the draft. It originated from one of the formerly-sealed crypts. Those side-chambers were low and only extended back about ten steps before they ended in bare walls chiseled from solid stone. However, in one they found a narrow exit, a slit just behind the now-empty stone tomb that had held the chamber's sole occupant. Closer examination showed that the breach opened into a larger tunnel beyond.

"That looks like a tight squeeze," Vanek commented.

"It opens out further in," Graves said. Taking the torch, he shuffled forward. "Definitely air moving through here," he said. "It could be a way out."

"It's not like we have any other options," Barek said.

"All right, let's go," Graves said.

Even once the passage widened after the breach it was slow going. The tunnel was only wide enough for them to go single-file, and it was low enough that Barek wasn't the only one who had to watch his head. They were all alert to any more of the risen dead emerging to confront them in such a confined space, but they didn't come to any side-passages or niches that could have held another of the monstrous creatures. What they did find was that the tunnel descended, gradually at first and then sharply before it opened onto another larger space ahead. Graves waited at the edge of that area for the others to catch up before he shuffled warily forward, holding up the torch to see what was waiting for them in this new part of the complex.

Like the passage behind them, this chamber appeared to be mostly natural in construction. Irregularly shaped, its full extent was impossible to make out with the limited light from the torch. That light wavered when Graves thrust it forward, the flames flickering as a soft breeze caught them. He retreated a step back into the relative shelter of the tunnel, but he'd gotten a good enough look to see what lay ahead.

After a ledge that jutted out maybe half a dozen steps into the cavern, the floor fell away to either side in a sheer drop. In the center stretched a path that quickly narrowed to just a few paces across, a natural bridge over the chasm. The torchlight hadn't extended far enough for Graves to see where it went, but it seemed to be the only obvious way forward.

"Oh, man, this doesn't look good," Keev said.

"How far down is the drop?" Vanek asked.

"Couldn't quite tell," Graves said. "There's a good breeze in the room."

"We'll have to get into it if we want to cross," Vanek said. "We could leave Rajek back here with the other torch, it's not very bright but we can use it to relight the other if it goes out."

"Okay," Graves said. "Vanek, Barek, you're with me. Keev and Squints, stay here with Rajek."

For once nobody offered a complaint as the three men edged forward. The torch flickered again as they stepped out onto the ledge, but the wind wasn't strong enough to douse it. The precipice was as sheer as it had looked from the entry, but they could just make out what looked like uneven mounds maybe twenty feet below.

"That's strange," Vanek said.

As Graves drew back the torch, a bit of burning cloth broke free and fluttered down into the chasm. When it landed on the side of one of the mounds, its fading glow was just enough or reveal the nature of what cluttered the floor of the cavern.

Bones. The mounds consisted of literally thousands upon thousands of bones heaped upon each other.

"Oh, shit," Vanek said.

The three drew back to where the others were waiting. Something of what they had seen must have shown on their faces, for Keev asked, "What? What is it?"

Barek looked pale. "For once, I wish I had your eyes, Squints."

"What?" Keev asked, his voice edging toward panic.

"You know those guys we just fought?" Vanek asked. "Well, it turns out they had a lot of friends who didn't warrant such fancy digs."

"It doesn't matter," Graves said. "Vanek was right before. We can't stay here, and the only way out is forward."

"We don't know where that bridge goes," Barek said.

"Wherever it goes, it has to be better than here," Graves said. "Let's get this over with. You okay, Rajek?"

The soldier lifted his head with an effort. "Swell."

Graves looked over at Barek, but from the way the big man was eyeing the narrow span, it didn't look as though he'd be much help. "Squints, you help Rajek."

"Right."

"Single file," Graves said. "I'll go first..."

"Better let me go first, actually," Vanek said, gesturing toward the torch. "My body might help cut the breeze some."

"Good idea," Graves said. "Okay, Vanek, then me, then Keev, and Barek. Squints and Rajek will bring up the rear."

The crew leader looked around at the gathered faces of his people. They all looked afraid, which was hardly surprising given the circumstances, but they also looked ready, trusting in his leadership. "All right, let's go."

They made their way into the cavern, stepping out from the ledge onto the natural bridge. Graves followed close behind Vanek, using their bodies to shield the torch as best he could. The others followed close behind.

The width of the bridge fluctuated, but thankfully never grew narrower than two paces. With the torch sheltered they couldn't see very far, but it shed enough light for Vanek to see where he was putting his feet. The chasm fell away to either side. Graves couldn't tell if they were on a true bridge, if the space directly beneath them was empty air, but it didn't really matter, unless their combined weight was enough to cause it to collapse.

He heard some muttering behind him. "Everyone doing okay?"

"Rajek's torch went out," Squints said. "Barek's having some trouble."

"You shut the hell up!" the big man yelled. His voice seemed to echo through the interior of the cavern, sending a cold thrill down Graves's spine. The vast darkness of the cavern could have hidden anything, and the constant noise of the wind meant that they wouldn't hear an approaching threat until it was almost on top of them.

"Just focus on the man ahead of you!" Graves said. "One foot in front of the other, we're almost out of here." He didn't actually know if that was the case, but he offered a silent prayer that it was.

"I see the far end!" Vanek said a moment later.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Graves lifted the torch as a reflexive response, to see for himself. But at that moment a hard gust of wind blasted into them from the side. It wasn't strong enough to push them off the bridge, but the torch flared, flickered, and went out, plunging them into darkness.

* * * * *

Chapter 15

Graves had been afraid almost since he'd stirred from his bedroll. It felt like days ago instead of hours. In that interval there had been some moments of true terror, and his britches were still damp from that first meeting with one of the risen dead. But that moment of being suddenly cast into darkness catapulted him into a new height of terror and anxiety. He _knew_ that nothing had changed, that he was still standing on the bridge with comrades ahead and behind him, but the sudden dread of the unknown, what _could_ be there, was almost overpowering.

He clearly wasn't the only one to have such a reaction. He heard a few strangled cries from the others, and then a loud clatter of metal striking stone. That sound was followed by an impact on the bones below that set off a cascade of rattling noises.

"What happened? Did someone go over?" Graves asked.

"I dropped the hammer," Barek said. His voice sounded strangled, as if he was having difficulty getting air into his lungs. "I can't see."

"None of us can," Graves said.

"Can you... can you get the torch relit?" Squints asked.

"Not in this wind," Graves replied. "But we're not far from the other side, Vanek saw the end. We just need to move forward. Take hold of the shoulder of the man in front of you."

"I... I can't see," Barek hissed again. His voice sounded like it came from further down, closer to the stone. Graves could imagine them each bending low so they could touch the reassuring solidity of the stone bridge under them.

The clatter made by the dropped hammer had eased off, but now they heard another sound, a deeper rattling noise that came from more than just one spot directly beneath them. "What's that?" Squints asked.

"Go, we have to go!" Graves said, but his legs felt frozen in place and he couldn't move. He felt blindly ahead for Vanek but couldn't feel him, had no idea whether the old man was even still there. He was about to call out his friend's name in desperation when there was a flicker of light. It revealed Vanek standing exactly where he'd been when the lights had gone out, just a step away.

Graves turned around and saw that the light was coming from Keev, or rather from the shaft of the broken musket he was holding. The crew leader blinked and realized that the source was actually a glowing mark that the wiry digger had somehow etched into the steel, curving around the barrel. The light it produced was barely brighter than a candle's flame, but Graves could see the relief that it stirred in the faces of the other diggers behind, Barek on his knees and Squints steadying Rajek further back.

Another sound of shifting bones reached them. They all looked over the edge toward the sound, which seemed to be moving, but the light didn't extend far enough for them to see anything. "Let's go, move it!" Graves said.

With the light just enough to reveal the path ahead they continued along the bridge. It only took a few dozen steps for them to reach the relative safety of another ledge along the far wall of the cavern. There was another exit there, a passage that quickly gave way to rough-hewn stone steps that ascended at a steep angle.

"Is it a way out?" Keev asked.

"Only one way to find out," Vanek said. He peered up into the dark, but there was nothing to suggest what lay beyond the conservative radius of their companion's magical light. Graves saw that while each of the others remained close, they nevertheless gave Keev a good pace or two of distance. The sounds from the chasm had faded away behind them, indistinguishable from the soft rush of air moving through the cavern, but none of them wanted to linger here.

"Can you get the torch going again?" Barek asked.

Graves was already trying to find some embers he could coax back to life, but it was no use. "Squints, what about the gun mechanism, it makes sparks, right?"

Squints came forward but shook his head. "I don't have any extra flints, and I couldn't find the one from the broken gun in the crypt. I could try blowing the powder out the triggering pan, but the gun could still go off, and that's our last shot."

"Keev, can you maintain that light for a while?"

"I think so."

"Right, let's get out of here then," Graves said. "Vanek, you okay to share the lead?" He didn't need to comment on Barek's near-collapse earlier, or the fact that all of them were almost at the edge of human endurance.

"I'll manage, if it gets us closer to leaving this bloody pit behind," the old man said.

They started up the stairs, Keev in the center holding up the light. The steps were irregular and required careful attention to where one was going. The ascent seemed to follow the course of a natural shaft, curving and bending to follow its contours, with frequent landings where it briefly leveled out. There were cracks and crevices that extended out from the sides of the shaft at those landings, and it wasn't until they came to the second one that they realized that those breaches had been pressed into service as makeshift tombs.

Vanek saw it first, and gestured with his shovel for Keev to shine the light toward the wall to his right. The crack there was about the size of a man, though narrower even than the exit from the crypt below. The stone above it was carved into a relief that showed a grinning skull. Another one nearby was flanked by a carving of a sword with a jagged blade, while yet another showed a roughly-human figure surrounded by a halo of flames.

They didn't need to look into the crevices to mark their purpose; faded bones spilled out from them, many broken into pieces.

"Bloody hells," Rajek gasped. "How far does this bloody place go on?"

Vanek poked at one of the crevices carefully with his shovel. A shower of bones resulted, but they did not appear to be animated.

Graves's muscles were screaming, but he wasn't even tempted to call a break. "Keep moving," he said.

They resumed their ascent. They came to another landing, this one more ornate than the first, the crevices expanded into actual niches worked into the stone. The carvings were also more elaborate, and they dead here had been entombed with more care, the bodies wrapped in fragments of what might have once been cloth drapes. Graves wondered at how everything had managed to remain so preserved, and realized with a start that he hadn't seen a single living thing, not even a solitary insect, since they'd entered the ruins.

This time they didn't even slow down, crossing the burial area to where the stairs resumed. But even as Vanek and Graves started up the steps, a sudden clatter drew their attention back around.

The dead here, at least, were not content to just let the intruders pass.

* * * * *

Chapter 16

They made noise as they moved, the clack of bones on bones. Their wraps disintegrated as they emerged from their tombs. These had suffered even more decay than the mummies in the crypt, resembling the skeletal creatures that Barek had described in the forest earlier. They were just bones, lacking skin, muscles, or anything else that could have explained how they were able to move. They did not carry weapons, but they reached for the intruders with bony claws.

"Come on, move!" Graves urged, but the others were already rushing up the stairs. The skeletons, at least a half a dozen or so, started up after them, their bony feet clacking on the stone. Graves kept looking back, but with the weak light he couldn't see more than few steps past Squints and Rajek.

"More ahead!" Vanek yelled, drawing Graves's attention forward. The steps opened onto yet another landing, and there the dead had already stirred to greet them. Several skeletons blocked their path, these bearing decorations; thin chains of bronze that supported tiny amulets of green, blue, or black stone dangled from their necks or were tangled in their rib cages. The one in the center wore a bronze circlet that rested at an angle across its skull, and several bronze bangles clattered loosely around its arms as it lunged forward toward the diggers.

Vanek and Graves both flinched, raising their shovels to defend themselves, but before either they or the creatures could strike something happened. Keev, hurrying up the stairs behind the two crew leaders, either didn't hear Vanek's warning or failed to react in time. He nearly collided with the two of them before he managed to stop. As he did so the glow from the Mark upon the broken musket fell upon the waiting dead, and they abruptly halted their advance. The ones on the flanks actually seemed to cringe back, while the one with the circlet looked like it was trying to push forward against an invisible barrier.

Graves and Vanek shared a look, then stepped forward and smashed their shovels into the creature. Its bones were tougher than they looked but against beaten iron swung with desperation they shattered. Graves crushed one of its knee joints, causing it to topple forward, just as Vanek thrust the blade of his shovel up under its jaw. For a moment it hung on the iron, its arms flailing, but then the old man swung it down into the floor and jammed his foot down onto the blade, severing its skull from the rest of its body.

The others quickly joined in the destruction before the things could recover. Keev struck one with the broken musket. It wasn't clear if it was the impact of the steel or the effects of the mark, but either way its body collapsed into a mound of bones. Another swung at Barek as he came at it from the flank, but he caught its arm and lifted it off its feet. He swung the entire skeleton into its neighbor, shattering bones on both of them from the force of the collision. The one he was holding tried to claw at his forearm, and with a look of revulsion he slammed it repeatedly into the ground until the power holding it together ceased and the remaining pieces flew apart.

Squints put down Rajek and raised his gun, but the fight was just about over. Graves looked over at him as Vanek brought down the last of the things with repeated blows of his shovel. "Are the ones behind us still coming?" Graves asked.

The two men turned and peered back into the darkness. At first they didn't hear anything, the clack of bones on stone encouragingly absent, but then they both made out something else, a distant but building sound that was similar to what they had heard in the wind cavern, only much more intense.

And from the sound of it, rapidly getting closer.

"Barek, help Squints with Rajek! Keev, keep close to them with that light, it seems to hinder those things!"

As the diggers hurried to get moving again, Graves went over to Vanek. The old man was leaning against the wall next to the remains of the skeleton he'd destroyed, his chest heaving. "I'm about... done..." he said. "Go on..."

"I don't tolerate slacking off on my crew," Graves said. "You move, old man, or I'll have to carry you, which I don't think either of us wants."

Vanek couldn't manage a response, but he did shuffle toward the stairs, and he didn't resist when Graves grabbed hold of his arm. The two were the last to resume the climb, the light from Keev's spell a beacon drawing them forward. Graves resisted the urge to look behind them. It would have been futile, as they couldn't see anything, and in any case the sounds that continued to develop made it quite clear that whatever was following them, it was not something they wanted to meet.

For a time Graves just focused on his feet, trying to see the steps in the dim light. Finally a shout from above jerked his head up, and he saw that the others had reached another larger space. Praying that this didn't mean still another battle, he and Vanek drew upon their fading reserves of strength to finish at least this stage of the climb.

The chamber at the top of the steps wasn't especially large, maybe half the size of the vault where they'd battled the mummies below. Graves tried to calculate how far they'd descended versus how far the stairs had brought them back up, but he finally had to give it up and admit he had no idea how far underground they were at the moment.

The stairs continued on the far side of the room, but the light from Keev's mark was just bright enough to reveal that they didn't go very far before ending in a solid-looking stone wall. There didn't appear to be any other exits, though the shadows in the other corners of the room could have hidden anything in their depths. The fact that a wall would be right there at the top of a short flight of stairs suggested to Graves it might be another recent addition, but first his immediate attention was drawn to the contents of the chamber proper.

The dominant feature was another broad stone altar similar to the one below. This one did not stand upon a raised platform, but instead was surrounded by a depression in the stone, a kind of shallow moat that formed a ring around it. The stone itself was covered in a layer of something that glistened in the light, along with something else on its surface that shone with a brighter radiance. Barek and Keev had started in that direction, drawn to that metallic gleam.

"See about that wall," Graves said to Vanek. "I'll check if there's another way out." The old man nodded and headed over to the wall with Squints and Rajek.

Graves hurried over to join the others in front of the altar. Up close he could see that there were ugly bronze manacles fastened to the sides of it, the metal covered with a thick green patina and pitted with age. But the bright gleam on its upper surface came from a shining mark that had apparently been carved into the stone and filled with liquid metal. Graves knew nothing about magic, but there was something about the sigil that was evocative of the glowing rune on the barrel of the broken gun that Keev carried.

"Is that silver?" Barek asked. Graves blinked in surprise that the man could think about greed at a moment like this one, but finally shook his head and turned to Keev. "Make a quick check that there aren't any more ways out of the room then bring the light over to the steps and the wall over there," he said. Keev nodded and began a broad circuit around the altar, holding the musket out so its light spilled into the corners of the room. Graves could see that his initial assumption had been right; the only apparent way out was the blocked stair.

Another rumble from the lower stair jolted Graves back to action. He grabbed Barek by the arm and tore his attention away from the altar stone and its shining adornment. "We've got enough trouble without messing with that," he said. "Come on."

Barek lingered a moment longer, but finally followed Graves over at the far stair. The others were already busy at the wall; Squints was using Vanek's knife to scrape at a crack while the others watched. "What do we got?" Graves asked.

Squints glanced up at him, blinking as Keev followed with the light. "This here is stone blocks, not some half-assed masonry job," he said. "The mortar they used is flaking, but even if we still had the hammer I'm not sure we'd be able to smash through."

"There's no other way out," Keev reported. His announcement was punctuated by another loud clatter, closer than the last. They all shared a tense look at that.

"Look, I have an idea," Squints said. "But I need a minute or two."

"We'll give you what we can," Graves said. He looked around at the others, meeting their eyes one by one, confirming that they knew what they were agreeing to. When they had all nodded Graves turned back to Squints and began "What are you..." But he didn't have to finish; Squints had picked up the musket, and as they all watched he pointed the end into the crack he'd been picking at with the knife.

The gun let out its usual deafening roar. Without anywhere to go the smoke blasted back at them, blinding them for a moment in a cloud that made their lungs burn. By the time it cleared Squints was already working on the hole he'd blasted into the rock. Graves understood what he was thinking when he saw him take out the canister of gunpowder and began cutting strips of cloth off the bottom of his shirt with Vanek's knife.

"Rajek, you stay here and keep an eye on things," Graves said. The wounded soldier, already slumped against the stairs, managed a wry nod and a weak thumbs-up. "The rest of you... on me."

Graves, Vanek, Barek, and Keev crossed back to the dark entry of the descending shaft. Keev's light barely reached into the interior, giving the opening the look of a sinister black gullet. The four men tensed as the rumbling noise increased in intensity, but then it suddenly just... stopped.

"What..." Keev began, the glowing musket clenched tight in his hands.

He was interrupted as a massive _thing_ erupted from the blackness of the stairwell. It was made of bones, thousands upon thousands of them, joined into a serpentine structure that filled the space of the shaft. It swelled out as it came into the room, forming pseudopods that slashed out from it like random limbs.

Graves and Vanek had been ready with their shovels to attack whatever emerged from the darkness, but against this horror they were utterly unprepared. Both men staggered back, but could not avoid the bone monster's surge forward. Bones smashed into their bodies and knocked them roughly off their feet. Barek, without a weapon at all, ran into the room toward the altar, the only shelter the architecture of the chamber offered. The bone creature swelled up toward the ceiling and fashioned two massive scythes that took form above the stunned figures of Graves and Vanek.

But before the thing could strike, Keev stepped forward. He held the musket barrel up, not as a weapon, but as a talisman against the power that animated the creature. The Mark he'd etched glowed brightly against the surrounding darkness, and for a moment the thing seemed to hesitate in the face of that power.

But only for a moment. The entity's form shifted again and a sweep of bones slashed out from its body toward the thin digger. As the tendril entered the globe of light it lost cohesion, but the momentum it had created still battered Keev with a spray of bones. He reflexively brought his arms up to shield his face, but still took dozens of hits that drove him roughly backward. The force of those collective impacts blasted him off his feet, and as he hit the floor the broken musket fell out of his grasp, the glowing Mark faltering as the barrel rolled away.

* * * * *

Chapter 17

When the creature had first appeared, Squints had felt a moment of gratitude at whatever affliction had stolen his vision. He could see enough to know that it was as bad as he could imagine, but as the thing tore through his comrades he forced himself to turn away from the violent clash behind him and focus on what he was doing.

He'd emptied the entire contents of the powder canister into the breach he'd made in the wall. He didn't have much to cover the hole, but had hammered a few fragments of rock into the space using the stock of the musket, leaving a space from which he'd dangled a strip of rolled cloth he'd generously sprinkled with gunpowder. It wasn't much of a fuse, and would probably detonate the moment he triggered it, but it was all he could manage in the seconds his friends had bought him.

Even as Keev went down, his light fading with him, Squints touched the end of the cloth to the firing mechanism of the musket and pulled the trigger. The flint on the end of the spring struck the steel base, launching a spray of sparks that caught on the powder he'd sprinkled into the pan and on the dusting that coated the cloth. As the room went dark he saw the sparks catch into bright points of flame.

Then something struck him, and he went flying over to the edge of the staircase, into the narrow space where the stone wall met the shaft. He felt a heavy weight land on top of him.

Then all sensation was overwhelmed by a massive blast. He felt as though an invisible hand had picked him up and slammed him to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs. All he saw was darkness and all he heard was a ringing that sounded like a bell being wildly tolled inside his skull. The only thing that he could think was, _I'm dying_.

That thought pushed through the fog clouding his senses and he thrust himself up. The ringing continued, but he could now see a shaft of brightness that pierced his eyes painfully. Then as his vision cleared he realized that it _was_ a shaft, a bright stream of sunlight that came through the hole he'd blasted in the wall. Motes of pulverized stone flared in that golden beam, swirling in and out of view.

He heard something else, a sound that slowly overpowered the persistent ringing. It sounded like the roars of a mortally wounded animal. He turned his head, following the beam of light down into the chamber.

The bone creature was there, closer than it had been, suddenly startlingly clear in Squints' vision. The beam of light splashed across it, and where it struck the bones were burning, opening a tear in its substance as they disintegrated. There was much more of it behind that wound, however, and still more of it was trying to emerge into the chamber, intent on finishing the job it had started.

"Get out of here!" a voice yelled over the chaos. Graves, it was Graves, somehow still alive. Squints could barely make out anything other than the ray of sunlight and the struggles of the creature, but there were other things moving around the edges of his vision, shadowy forms that staggered toward him.

_Get out_ , his own mind whispered. He tried to get up and realized that there was still a heavy weight on top of him, pinning him down. He felt a moment of panic before he realized it was Rajek. _He saved my life_ , Squints realized, flashing back to the impact that had knocked him clear of the explosion he'd set off. He grabbed hold of the man, awkwardly pushing him to the side so he could get up. At first he thought that the soldier was dead, killed in the blast, but then he groaned and stirred. Squints pulled him up, trying to be careful of his broken arm.

"The light!" he yelled. "Come to the light!"

It sounded pretty stupid as soon as he said it, as it seemed a pretty obvious course of action. But the others were coming, Graves and Keev and Vanek, swaying forward like drunken men. Graves was holding up Keev, or maybe it was the other way around, the two stumbling together as they reached the stairs. Squints looked around for Barek, and as if summoned by the thought the big man appeared, darting forward over the uneven debris that cluttered the floor.

"Help me with Rajek!" Squints called to him. For a moment he thought Barek would ignore him and make his own way to safety, but then he stopped and grabbed hold of the injured soldier.

The gap in the wall wasn't all that big, but it looked just large enough for them to squeeze through one at a time. When Vanek appeared, still holding his precious shovel, he used it to widen it a bit, knocking free some half-broken pieces of stone that had been loosened by the explosion. Barek was the first through the opening, but he turned to help drag Rajek after him. The injured soldier was almost dead weight now, and Squints wondered if he would die now, having made it this far with escape just visible ahead.

He didn't have much of a chance to think on the matter. The bone thing was still coming, and as first Barek and then Rajek interrupted the stream of light it surged ahead until it was almost at the base of the stairs. But once Barek pulled the stricken soldier free the sunlight poured back through the widened opening, blasting into the creature with even more effect. This close Squints had no difficulty seeing the hole that was burned into its "body" as the light penetrated. The thing clearly wanted them dead but could not withstand that radiance, and after a moment it drew back out of the reach of the bright beam.

"Go!" Graves said, thrusting Keev forward. The little man seemed hardly better off than Rajek, but he didn't have any difficulty squeezing through the gap. Vanek followed after. Squints kept an eye on the stairs for signs of the bone creature's return. He could hear it moving around, but he didn't know what it might be planning.

Graves turned to him and grabbed hold of his arm, shaking him from his reverie. "You're next!" he said.

Squints didn't linger; he sprang up and grabbed hold of the crumbling stone. Stepping through, he heard the clatter of bones and turned to see Graves standing there, already poised to follow. Squints turned back and planted his feet on both sides of the opening, then reached through to grab hold of Graves's hands. He could sense the movements of the creature as it tried to slip past the fragments of light that made it through the wall, trying to deny at least one of its enemies escape. But Squints didn't let go and he didn't stop pulling until the crew leader tore through the gap and landed on the stairs next to him. Both men looked up and saw a brief flash of movement that was followed by a flash of flames as some last vestige of the thing appeared in the opening, but then it was gone.

Squints pulled Graves to his feet, and careful not to block the ray of light the two ascended the stairs. The others had already reached the top, where the rough-hewn steps emerged in the back of a natural cave. It wasn't very deep, and at its far end there was a low entry fringed with scattered brush. Fresh air reached Squints' lungs, a cleansing balm. But most welcome was the bright glow that limned the mouth of the cave, the pure light of a morning dawn.

One by one the diggers staggered forward out into that brightness. For a moment it filled their vision, but eventually they could see that they were standing on a rocky hillside covered in sparse dry growth. Around them were more hills for as far as they could see, and below extended a deep gully populated with a dense thicket of tangled bushes. To the east the sun was about halfway over the uneven horizon. They must have passed the rest of the night in the underground complex, Squints thought.

Graves pulled away from Squints and clapped him on the shoulder. The others didn't go far, dropping to the ground, laughing as they sucked in deep breaths, happy to be alive. All of them looked like they'd just gone to war. _Maybe we did_ , Squints thought.

The rising sun was already painfully bright to look at, so Squints just closed his eyes, letting its glow wash over him. The air was cold enough to make them shiver, but a bit of morning chill seemed almost laughably trivial after what they'd just gone through.

"We made it," Graves said, his voice a heavy rasp. "We survived."

* * * * *

Chapter 18

Graves was the first to stir. He rose slowly. The pain it cost him was obvious on his face.

Squints blinked against the sunlight and looked up at him. "Where you going?"

"I have to see."

There was a pause as Graves started trudging up the increasingly steep slope of the hill behind them. After a moment first Squints and then Barek got up and followed. Vanek looked like he might join them, but after an initial effort to rise he slumped back against the soft earth. "I'll just stay and keep an eye on Rajek," he said. Keev just sat with his head in his hands, rocking softly back and forth. For once Barek pretended not to notice and left him alone.

The three diggers slowly gained the ascent. After their travails in the camp and then in the ruins the hazards of loose rocks and thorny bushes were hardly worth acknowledging. Finally they staggered up to the relative clear of the hilltop. A fringe of massive boulders decorated the crest, but they had no difficulty circling around to get a clear view of the terrain ahead.

The battlefield looked unchanged, quiet in the morning light. Fog lingered in the forest, but no sound or motion reached them from that direction. The ruins were ahead and below.

"We came farther than I thought," Barek said.

Squints, unable to see anything, just looked at the faces of his companions.

"There, the main camp," Graves said. They all peered into the distance. The curving line of the road was just visible, and beyond that a gray haze of smoke distinct from the morning mist.

"Think anyone else survived?" Squints asked.

"Only one way to find out," Graves said.

Keev joined them when they made their way back across the battlefield. They'd left Vanek and Rajek behind, concealed in cover as best they could manage. Left unspoken was the truth that if the four explorers failed to return, it was doubtful that they would survive. Without a doctor's treatment Rajek's wound would very likely kill him, and while Vanek was mostly intact, it was clear that the old man's body had been pushed far beyond its limits. He was snoring softly when they took their leave.

"We need water, food, and medicines, in that order," Graves said.

"A new coat and maybe some blankets would be welcome," Keev said, his teeth chattering.

"I've got something that could warm us up, in our camp," Barek said. "A bottle of the good stuff straight from Corporal Haldeston's still."

"That could count for medicine, I suppose," Graves said. "But I think we'll have a better chance at the supply wagons."

"What about weapons?" Squints asked.

Graves held up his battered shovel. "If we find something useful, we take it. But I'm not ready to fight another battle."

"Maybe we should wait until the sun comes up more," Keev said, glancing back at the hills behind them.

"It's light enough that we'll see them coming, if any of those things are left," Squints said. Before Barek could comment he added, "At least you lot will."

Barek let out a snort.

"You think there are any of our guys left?" Keev asked, echoing Squints' earlier question from the hilltop.

"If Major Carvis bought it early enough, they might have had a chance," Barek said. "If that idiot survived to lead them then they're probably all dead."

"Look," Keev said.

They saw the form lying limp in a heap on the matted grass. "One of them?" Squints asked.

Graves prodded it with his shovel. "Yeah, this one was buried."

"Looks like maybe you were right about the light of day thing," Barek said.

"We all saw it work," Squints said. He couldn't quite bring himself to talk more specifically about what they'd experienced in the tunnels under the ruins. From the look that crossed the faces of his companions, they all felt it.

"Come on, let's keep moving," Graves said.

As they approached the road they got a better look at the camp. There wasn't much left of it. The fires they'd seen the night before had spread, consuming several of the supply wagons and some of the tents. Smoke still rose from the charred remains. Much of the remaining infrastructure of the camp had been torn apart. There were plenty of bodies, most of them in as rough a condition as the camp.

"Man, oh man," Keev said.

"They're just dead meat now," Barek said.

"Yeah, so were the ones we put in the ground before," Keev replied.

"Come on," Graves said. "Some of the wagons are still intact, and there's bound to be some food left..."

He was interrupted as Squints raised a hand. "You hear that?"

They all listened, and gradually over the stillness of the morning they could hear it; a distant rumble.

"What now?" Barek asked, his head darting back and forth as he looked for a weapon.

Graves let out a relieved sigh. "It's the supply caravan," he said. "Right on time."

As if in response, the loud lingering note of a signal horn reached them. "Yes," Barek said. His body shook for a moment, then he let out a wild whoop. He looked like he was about to start sprinting toward the road, but he stopped when Squints laid a hand on his arm. "What?" the big man asked.

"What are we going to tell them?" Squints asked.

That question struck them like a slap. After a moment, all eyes turned to Graves.

The crew leader considered. "I think... just this once, we might have to tell them the truth."

Barek started to open his mouth, but finally he nodded. Keev, however, seemed to shrink into himself. "The truth?"

"Well, maybe not _all_ of it," Graves said. "Everybody okay with that?"

There was another look between the four of them. Squints nodded, and after a long moment, Barek did the same. "Crew business is crew business," the big man said, with a look over at Keev. "That's how it's always been."

"All right," Graves said. "Let's go get that drink."

The End

The Graves Crew will return in "The Graves Crew and the Damned Dam."
