Deus Necros

Harven blinked, and Vlad nearly smiled despite himself. Pedri cleared his throat before the captain could decide whether the answer was insolent or merely literal.

”He was injured and starving when I found him, surrounded by things I would rather not describe. I treated him as best I could. That was when I noticed the blessing.”

”What sort of blessing? And do you believe it has some connection to what happened here?”

”I don’t yet know what the blessing is. As for the attacks, I was told bandits destroyed his home, but I saw what they left behind. After finding this village, I find that explanation difficult to accept.”

The admission of ignorance made Vlad listen more carefully. He had encountered priests willing to describe the exact intentions of the gods after witnessing a strange light. Those who understood the limits of their knowledge generally deserved more attention.

”My church was gone, and the boy had no home to return to. I had already intended to travel to Solania, so I brought him with me. If he has truly been touched by the gods, I would rather someone more knowledgeable than myself determine what that means.”

One of the priests behind Vlad nodded. It was a reasonable decision, at least on its surface. The captain looked around the square again, taking in the burned shrine and the freshly turned soil.

”When did you reach this village, and what did you find? Were there any survivors or attackers still here?”

”We arrived this morning. There were no attackers and no survivors that we could find. We spent the day searching the ruins and burying the dead.”

Vlad followed Pedri’s gaze toward the trench. Its length had been troubling from the beginning, but the scale of the task became clearer now. Two travelers had spent their day collecting bodies from the ruins while his column was still on the road.

”You buried everyone?”

”As many as we could find. Some were missing, though I cannot tell you how many without knowing how many people lived here.”

Vlad turned to one of his officers and ordered him to obtain the village’s census records when they returned. The man acknowledged the instruction and began making a note. Pedri waited until the captain faced him again.

”You said this resembled the other settlement. Is that because both were burned, or did you find something more specific?”

”Almost everything resembled it. The chief difference was the arrangement of the dead.”

The mercenary captain stepped closer. Until then, he had been studying the surrounding streets, but the priest’s choice of words brought his attention back to the conversation. Vlad felt his own hand settle near his sword.

”Arrangement? Father, what exactly had been done to them?”

Vask answered before Pedri could. His expression remained as flat as it had been during his introduction.

”Sacrificed.”

Every eye in the square moved toward him. The three garrison priests became visibly uneasy, and Vlad looked back to Pedri for confirmation. The older man nodded without hesitation.

”Yes. They were not simply killed during the attack. What we found here was deliberate, as it was in the other town.”

”What evidence do you have?”

Pedri reached toward his belt. Several soldiers immediately raised their weapons, and Vask’s hand moved toward the old sword at his hip. It happened quickly enough to make Vlad’s attention snap toward him. The captain lifted his palm before either side could mistake the other’s movement.

”Easy. Father, tell us what you’re reaching for, then take it out slowly.”

”A pouch. I found something beneath the ruins of the shrine, and I thought someone needed to see it.”

Pedri waited until the nearest swords lowered, then drew a small leather pouch from beneath his robe. Something hard rested inside. He held it away from his body, loosened the cord, and tipped a small statue into his palm.

The nearest priest recoiled. Vlad understood the reaction before he had finished examining the object. It was barely longer than his hand, fashioned from black stone or something resembling it. A thin humanoid figure stood on goat-like legs above a narrow base, with wings folded tightly against its back. Its horned head was elongated, caught somewhere between human and animal. One clawed hand covered its eyes while the other rested against its chest.

There was no visible light, flame, or other obvious sign of magic. Nevertheless, looking at it made Vlad want to step away. Pressure gathered behind his eyes, followed by a faint nausea that had nothing to do with the smell of the village. Somewhere beyond the square, a horse whinnied sharply.

The priests reacted at once. One whispered a prayer, another reached for his holy symbol, and the third stared without moving. Pedri continued holding the statue in his open palm.

”You found that beneath this shrine? Was there anything like it at the other settlement?”

”A different idol, but the figure was very similar.”

Harven swore beneath his breath. Vlad studied the clawed hand covering the figure’s eyes, disturbed by how deliberate the gesture appeared. He wanted the thing put away, but not before someone gave him an explanation.

”Can any of you identify it?”

One of the garrison priests approached carefully. He stopped short of touching the statue and extended a hand, allowing a faint white light to gather around his fingers.

”I do not recognize the figure, Captain. Let me see whether it reacts.”

The moment his Holy energy approached, something dark flickered across the idol’s surface. It vanished almost immediately, but every priest in the square saw it. The oldest swallowed and lowered his gaze to the statue.

”Demonic residue.”

The square grew quiet. Pedri closed the leather around the idol, easing the pressure behind Vlad’s eyes without entirely removing it. The captain watched him gather the mouth of the pouch.

”You suspected that already. Why carry something like this?”

”Because telling people I found a demonic idol would be less convincing than showing them one. I could hardly leave it beneath a ruined shrine for the next traveler to discover.”

Vlad could not argue with the reasoning. He looked around the village again, seeing the burned houses, absent animals, and freshly filled trench as parts of a different problem. Another settlement had suffered almost the same fate weeks earlier. The Church of Romulus had also burned, leaving Pedri traveling with a boy recovered from another ruined town. Now they had an object carrying demonic residue.

This no longer resembled an ordinary bandit raid. Unfortunately, it did not eliminate the possibility that the attackers had crossed the western border. Harven appeared to have reached a more reassuring conclusion.

”Then it wasn’t the Kingdom of Sands. If demons were involved, the survivor must have mistaken what he saw.”

”Don’t decide that yet. Men can worship demons, Harven. Foreign men and Imperial men alike. We still have no proof of where the attackers came from or who gave them orders.”

Harven fell silent. Vlad looked toward the western road and found himself almost wishing they had been ordinary foreign soldiers. Soldiers could be captured, questioned, negotiated with, or executed if necessary. He understood the problems they created. Demons introduced complications no report could neatly resolve.

Pedri finished tying the pouch and looked toward the grave. His fingers remained around the cord for several seconds before he spoke again.

”I did not believe the destruction of the Church of Romulus was connected to the other attack. Now I think that was foolish.”

Vask moved for the first time since reaching for his sword. His hand left the hilt, and he looked beyond the ruined shrine toward the road leading north.

”If they’re the same people, they’re moving north.”

Vlad studied him more carefully. The boy had offered almost nothing throughout the conversation, yet this was the second time he had spoken as though the answer was obvious.

”What makes you think that? Did you see where they went?”

”No. The first town was south. Then the church, then here.”

Vask pointed as he spoke, indicating each direction with a small movement of his hand. Vlad pictured the locations on a map, and his expression changed. The alignment was imperfect, but close enough to form a rough line northward. It led toward Letonia and, beyond that, the mountains of Solania.

The oldest priest seemed to follow the same thought. His grip tightened around his holy symbol, and he looked from Vask to Vlad.

”Solania. If that is their direction, they are moving toward Solania.”

Nobody seemed pleased by the possibility. Pedri looked toward Vlad, his tired expression unchanged.

”That is where we were going.”

”Not alone anymore. You and the boy will remain with us until we understand what we’re dealing with.”

Pedri raised an eyebrow at the captain’s tone. For a moment, Vlad wondered whether the priest would object to being placed under military supervision.

”That sounds rather authoritative, Captain.”

”It is. There may be people moving north to repeat this, and you are carrying evidence they may want recovered.”

Vlad turned toward his soldiers before the conversation could become an argument. They had spent enough time standing in the square, and the daylight would not last indefinitely.

”Search everything. Every house, cellar, well, shrine, and field. Nobody touches anything unusual without one of the priests present. Mages, check for magical residue. Mercenaries, I want tracks, direction, numbers, mounts, anything you can find.”

The square broke into motion. Officers divided the soldiers into groups while the mercenary captain sent his people toward the roads and the gaps in the palisade. Pedri handed the pouch to the oldest garrison priest, who took it with visible reluctance.

Vlad remained beside the two travelers for a moment longer. His attention returned to Vask’s sword, taking in the rust, worn leather, and cheap scabbard. Then the sunlight shifted across the exposed steel, and something pale moved beneath the corrosion. It was faint and brief, but it had come from the blade itself.

Holy light.

Vlad narrowed his eyes. Vask noticed the attention and met his gaze, but neither spoke. Behind them, the priest reopened the pouch and immediately began insisting to his companions that the idol required a proper seal before anyone transported it.

The captain looked toward the long grave. He had ridden out expecting a political problem, perhaps a border dispute or bandits wearing foreign clothing. Instead, an old priest had shown him a demonic idol and helped trace a series of destroyed settlements toward the holiest mountains in the Empire. Vlad let out a slow breath.

”I preferred the bandits.”

”So did I, Captain.”

Pedri’s smile held no humor. Vlad looked once more toward the pouch as the priests drew its leather tight around the object inside. A wing pressed against one side, a horn against another, and he could still picture the clawed hand covering the figure’s eyes.

”Looks like the demons are moving again.”