Trails turned to hoove printed puddles after a few days ride.
Thick as he'd seen it before, maybe more, fog engulfed the air as far as one could see. There was smoke, the air was reddened by blood, and lightning bolts flickered farther inland.
Bones covered the ground, some for over a mile, crows nibbling on what little marrow they could.
Al covered her nose with a mask, shaking her head. "Dear God…"
Some remains were children, skeletons so small.
Looters scurried behind old crooked trees, and they bothered not to stop them, some fighting amongst one another. Dany cursed, howling at the graverobbers, and a few danced with loot above their head, laughing at her.
An ironite arrow skewered one through the heart, leaving a melon size hole in his chest.
The others scurried away, dropping their loot as they whimpered.
Al, steam rising from her eyes, lowered her bow, then cursed the gods.
He knew she didn't want to be here. No matter how much she'd grown, there was still a toll on her he'd never know. Death and war was all he'd known, and it may have been all he knew in the world before.
'Babe,' he thought of Ella. 'Babe….you're not the same…'
Would it really be best for him to reclaim his memories?
It didn't seem to do anyone any favors, and he was already a ray of sunshine as it was. He and Dany, though Victoria seemed thrilled enough.
Nothing mattered more than finding Nathan, and he shook himself to concentrate.
As dusk settled, so too did shadows.
For the first time since crossing into the dark lands, he watched shadows dance. It all returned to him, the cursed thrill of hunting the blood drunken demons.
"We should rest," Larosa said, lighting a small candle. "I can make a temporary keep for you. It'll last until next sunset."
Within a tight cluster of trees, branches leaning over them like a round roof, Larosa ignited a small white fire.
It was the best he'd rested since the inn. Dany kept watch first, greatsword out with a faint glimmer. Al took up the next guard, giving him time to learn more about Nathan's curse.
"He's faster, stronger, and," Dany explained, sharpening her blade, "dangerous."
He recalled when he last saw the lad, chained like a dog to that bitch Quarrath.
Larosa saw his frustration, and told him of a possible cure.
"It will require an ordained priest," the young Archive Master said, reading the lone piece of paper she brought with her. "Although, I don't know if William would be willing to commit. Last he saw Nathan was when he spilled Sir Robyn's blood."
"Robyn," he said, staring into the white dancing flame, recalling the young brave knight. "Why would he go and do something like that?"
Larosa didn't answer, tight lipped with her head down.
"We shouldn't have brought him to the Burning Lands," Dany answered, a tight hand on her greatsword's hilt. "I, should've forced him to stay in the village."
"You did your best," he tried assuring her.
Yet she was stubborn as he was, shaking her head. "Not even close. Otherwise none of this would've happened."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Al said, returning from her watch, no more than an hour left until dawn. "We all failed, we all made mistakes. Luckily, we're a soulless lot even the death god finds some amusement in."
Dany gave her a curious look. "Years ago we'd have never even bothered going so far past Draynsville."
They both looked at him, and Larosa, a queer look.
"And I'd have not made it so far without you," he said, reaching for his armor. "There's anyone needs blaming, it's me. I should've clouted him so hard he never consider following me into those black evil woods."
It would end tonight, he told himself as they started their ride.
A dying soldier laid beneath a dead horse. Al put the poor man out his misery, a quick slice through throat.
There were so many bodies, and flies swarmed like a sea of darkness. Sour rot filled the air, and Larosa vomited several times before inhaling something fiery from a finger sized vial. It was nothing he nor the other Embers hadn't seen or smelled before.
Then they crossed into a valley with streams of blood.
Dany whistled, signaling for them to watch the shadows. She started to wave, warning them to turn around, but shadows engulfed the hillsides.
Iron clattered, pikes, axes, and swords.
An army, spawned from darkness itself, and some of the soldiers' eyes glowed like the blood moon.
"Rejuvenators!" Dany hissed, her great mithril sword growing a faint white light.
"How?" Al stuttered, eyes widening. "How are there so many?"
"Vampyres summon them," Dany said, the blood cursed soldiers closing in on them. "Somewhere, out here. One has to be close."
Some were children.
Most wore boiled leather, jerkins, and some were in mail. A few stood taller than the rest, wielding great axes and halberds, donned in full suits of rusty armor. They stalked without pause, even the ranks crossing the blood river marching through a thick red waist deep current.
Larosa pulled a cross-star from beneath her collar. "Begone! Norvir and Rhea compels you back to the Dark Lord!"
Many whined and hissed.
He along with the Embers rode into them, putting their ranks to the slaughter.
Dashing like a fiery streak of mithril lightning, Dany severed many blood starved men and women in two. One swing of her greatsword hacked bone like an axe through wood.
Al was just a step behind her, so close yet not as strong. Her scimitar bled bellies, throats, and cut off limbs in a wiry white hiss.
In place of his trusted flail, he used his ironite Warhammer. There was no need to waste his precious beloved steel wind of death on poor creatures, and he enjoyed the crunch of bone. Dozens at a time, he bashed open blood weeping soldiers of Eldreth's foot soldiers.
A smile on his face, blood soaking his beard and hammer arm, it could've lasted all day.
On all sides of them, rejuvenator ranks ran thin.
Yet growing, as for every blood soldier they killed another would arrive to take their place. No, not arrive he realized, but rise.
"What the fuck," Al cursed, catching her breath, watching bodies reform.
Wounds sealed, bloody bones protruded with flesh sewing round marrow.
Organs squirmed within waking corpses, the tormented souls with a bite mark on the lower neck wailing until yellow light flickered in their pupils.
Larosa's light was fading, the cruel energy of the air straining her. She stuttered, trying to hold onto her reins, and Dany caught her before she fell.
"Fall back!" Al shouted, rejuvenators recovering.
Almost every soldier they'd slain was standing once more.
Some drank from the river, on all fours mouth first, as if thirst had consumed them for days on end.
He unslung his flail, and kicked his steed. It was a brave steed, no even whimpering much as the others, lashing its hooves to either side itself. Overhead he swung wild, scattering blood soldiers through the air.
Armored men, most wielding great axes, charged him. His flail cracked shattered armor into rusty shards. Even the few bearing pristine steel, likely off a dead kingdom knight, were gutted open in a single spiked lash.
Dany guided Larosa's steed to Al, who led the young master through an opening.
While Al guided Larosa farther away, he and Dany made short work of the everlasting army.
"We have to find the blood sage!" Dany panted, speaking over the sound metal crunching bone. "Can you handle them?"
"Aye," he said, almost insulted she asked. "Don't keep me waiting, these lot aren't worth the plunder!"
While impaling three soldiers at once, she nodded, lifting them overhead.
She flung the bodies free off her greatsword, then dashed into the valley.
"Wait!" He shouted, wondering why in the gods' black hell she'd go towards their source of strength.
It was thicker down there, he could feel it.
Despite many making the climb uphill, enough were crowding the blood river. It reeked, like a sour gut stew boiling in the valley, so much so he wished Larosa shared some of that potion she took.
He kept swinging regardless, his steed not tiring either.
Hooves caved in faces, flail spikes maimed in pieces, and he shouted the name of the Dark Lord's daughter.
"Quarrath, you fucking cunt! I know you're out there!" He spat, kicking leaky heads downhill. "You're a god of rot shitting maggots! No wonder you hide in Eldreth's walls!"
Darkness engulfed the valley, though not of reinforced blood soldiers.
Towers of darkness, some with blinking eyes. As they got closer, the giants appeared pale, some with loose hanging flesh along the belly. They all had bite marks, four giants in all, two with three eyes, one with a single tight squint, another with a lone yellow-stained eye so wide it took up its entire face.
His steed seemed to be alright on its own, roaring atop its hind legs before stampeding through staggering ranks.
Shield first, he charged downhill.
Rejuvenators pummeled on either side of him. A swing of his flail knocked them through the air, sending them into the red river.
All but one giant swung at him, clumplike palms with claws for fingers.
Spinning his flail, he swatted them all away. One giant wailed, its palm split down to the bone. The others cursed, their voices like broken thunder shaking the hillsides.
"CURSED SOUL! SOULLESS CURSED DAMN TO HELL!"
Children put together better words, the illiterate man he was almost embarrassed for the overgrown iron heads.
Light beamed and rejuvenators scattered away, his flail splitting open yellow toed feet. He broke a shin on one giant, making it collapse into another. Behind him surged beams of fire, scouring the earth.
He spun around, shield raised, greeted by what felt to be hundreds of scorching giant palms. For a few seconds he remained on his feet, then the cyclops' beam sent him flying.
While bouncing across the ground he caught a glimpse of fiery arrows plunging into the cyclops' eye.
The one eyed beast stumbled, recovering to fire again. Al loosed several arrows at once, all skewering the hut-sized pupil.
As the cyclops collapsed fire burst from its eye, igniting the sky.
Flames raged in the valley, turning the air dark red with a black overcast on all sides. He could almost see the stars, a few flickering white-yellow sparks.
On his feet, almost a hundred meters away from the nearest rejuvenator he dusted off his shield. Before he charged back into the fray, every blood soldier within the valley froze.
All at once they dropped.
No words, no wails, just a clutter of iron and steel.
'What in the fuck now?'
Quarrath, the cruel bitch.
Some of the men and women, some children, he eyed as he approached their corpses, were dead for not very long. One was one of the grave robbers they'd encountered the other day, the very lad Al slaid over goods worth a handful of coins.
Upon the hillside opposite their arrival, Dany appeared from thick red fog.
She carried a severed head, a pale bald headed vampyre, branded marks of the Dark Lord on the left side of its forehead.
"You alright?" He asked, looking at her trembling off hand as she approached.
"Yeah," she said, tossing the head down into the river. "He was…he had a handful of kids I needed to cut through to…"
"Say no more," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She tightened her fingers round her bloody greatsword's hilt. "It…it might not be worth going after Nathan."
Anger rose in him. "Fuck are ya' talking about, are you not my sister in arms?"
"Of course," she said desperately.
"Then that's our brother out there, cursed to a worse fate then us. We ain't leaving him to some bitch fancying herself divine royalty."
"But, she is a g-."
"She got lucky. We'll be there, every one of us, and the young father. First we make things right."
"Then," Dany said, Al arriving atop the hill with the horses, "maybe we should go after her first. That's likely the best way to free Nathan from her grasp."
He looked up, Al waving for them to hurry.
"Larosa's here for a reason. She and the young father'll break the lad free of his curse."
"What if it's not enough?" Dany protested. "I don't want to risk anything else going wrong, is either of them dies, they can't come back."
"Aye, and that be a shame" he said, turning away from her. "To come all this way and fail, never could imagine something so pitiful."
She started to say something, but hesitated.
All the confidence she gained, swinging a sword better than he could, yet still a little dove.
"I'm afraid too," he admitted as they approached Al, "but if it be his end, I'd rather it be with us."
She and Al looked at him, the latter of the too shaking her head.
"Have a little faith," Al said, leading them to Larosa. "Nathan's a tough soldier, he won't die so easily, and Larosa never gives up."
True right as she was, they were still human.
Failure for them meant death, unlike soulless bastards.