Prologue

  There was a deluge of heavy rain. A small company of five men rode through the thick woods of the Bothic along an overgrown road. Their green cloaks were soaked with water. Cold and miserable, they were eager to find shelter.

  “We should find somewhere to lie low, and soon,” said Nova, who cautiously scanned their surroundings. They were shrouded in a smothering fog, and the forest was eerily quiet.

  “Agreed,” replied Kerion, the captain. “Perhaps we’ll be able to find shelter in some ruins.”

  Nova looked around and scoured amongst the trees for anything dangerous. He had been raised in the woods. His father had taught him how to hunt and survive from an early age. Yet, these lands made him feel anxious. There was something ever looming in the air that always kept him on edge, something that he couldn’t quite seem to recognize. Of course, he wasn’t alone in feeling this way. There were others within the Brotherhood that spoke of the Bothic’s uncanny atmosphere as well. Yet, despite the land’s inherently foreboding nature, there was a mission to be accomplished.

  Nova looked ahead and saw the ancient remains of a crooked stone watchtower. Immediately, he pointed to it. “Over there.”

  “Ride for it.” Captain Kerion urged his horse forward. The others followed after him with haste, relieved at having found shelter at last and eager to escape the downpour.

  They dismounted their horses and left them to rest underneath a makeshift cover outside. Baelis, their most skilled swordsman, was first to be sent inside by Kerion. After he had thoroughly searched the tower from top to bottom, he waved them in. Drenched and shivering, they quickly entered and started a small fire with any wood that had managed to keep dry.

  With a man stationed above as lookout and another by the entrance to stand guard, the remaining three rangers gathered around the flames to discuss plans. Johan, the scribe, took out a map from his bag and unrolled it.

  “Thank the Lord,” said Nova, relieved. “It’s dry.”

  Johan glanced up at Nova. “Thank me, for putting it into the satchel to keep it dry.”

  “Right,” Nova apologized, flashing an insincere smile at him. “Of course. Thank you, Johan.”

  Johan was rather unconvinced by Nova’s sarcasm, but shrugged it off. The two of them shifted to make way for the captain.

  “Here we are." Kerion pointed to a location along the road that led west through the forest, although there was a speck of doubt. “Roughly, anyway.”

  He turned to Johan. “Mark down our position and draw in the ruin.”

  Johan took out his pen and drew a slanted tower in keen detail. Peering at his sketch, Nova was mildly impressed. Johan’s artistic ability rarely ceased to amaze him.

  As Kerion stroked his chestnut beard, he sat brooding over the rest of the map. Then he pointed to another location, further west of where they were. “If our location is accurate, then we should be getting much closer to Ingrid.”

  Nova observed the distance between their location and Ingrid. “Only a few more miles, I imagine,” he said.

  “I would hope so.” Kerion stood up and nodded for Johan to remove the map. “We’ll rest here. When the rain has cleared out, we head for the village.”

  “Understood.”

  Nova rose and dug through his bag, eventually finding his blanket. When he found a suitable location, he laid down. Drifting off into sleep, he dreamt of charming pretty girls and dancing merrily with his companions.

  The following morning, he awoke from a crawling sensation that was creeping up his leg. Panicked, he tore off the blanket and screamed in horror as he saw a massive spider advancing. Acting swiftly, he swatted the arachnid away and scrambled for distance.

  “Good morning,” greeted Baelis as he ate bread by the smoldering fire. He was smiling, amused at the spectacle that had just played out. “I see you’re finally awake.”

  “That I am,” Nova replied, still recovering his breathing. He carefully watched as the spider slipped away through a crack in the wall.

  Baelis split his loaf of bread in half and offered a piece to Nova. “Here, to break your fast.”

  “Thank you.” Nova took the bread and ate. After he had washed it down with water, he packed up and joined the others outside.

  Kerion, already mounted on his white warhorse, watched as Nova left the tower and got onto his own horse. It was cloudy, and the sky was painted a silvery gray. The storm from the day before had cleared, and the ground was still moist.

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  The rangers set out once more, traveling along the same overgrown road that wound through the woods. Kerion, the captain, led their formation as the vanguard. Johan, their navigator, followed next. Nova, as the newcomer, took the middle. Then behind him followed Baelis, their best swordsman, and Arnon, the finest archer the Greencloaks had to offer. Or so they say, Nova thought.

  Baelis yawned loudly, stretching his arms and back. "So, why do we have to come all the way out here?"

  "To investigate the village, ser," Nova responded.

  "What did those hunters say they saw, again? Beasts or something of the sort?"

  "Monsters lurking in the woods," said Arnon.

  "Dreadful ones," Nova added.

  "Aye, and apparently they couldn't quite get a good look, so we have nothing to know them by." Johan turned back to them. "Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?"

  Baelis chuckled. "Makes a good bedtime story."

  Perhaps it would, Nova thought. The whole mission did seem a little stupid to him. Monsters in the woods? Only a child would conjure up something like that.

  He thought back to his own childhood. His father had been a hunter and a traveler, and over the course of his lifetime, he had amassed a vast collection of stories. With no other children or a wife, he naturally told Nova all of them. He would speak of large ape-like creatures that could stand and walk like humans. These hairy beasts would quietly stalk their prey from a distance during the daytime, and then viciously attack during the night. Other stories told of little trickster spirits that would toy with their victims, and alluring voices that sang in the forest. When the victims had found where the voices were coming from, they would seemingly disappear afterwards, their souls lost.

  Once upon a time, he thought of his father's stories as truth. As he aged, however, he grew out of them. They were no more than fairy tales, as were likely these hunters' claims from Ingrid.

  There was nothing to fear out here besides crocodiles, wolves, bears, and other beasts of the sort—ones that could be outsmarted and killed. Yet, for some reason, his hairs stood on end, and it felt like something, or someone, was watching. The sensation of unseen eyes bore into his back. What could it be?

  "Doesn't matter if it sounds ridiculous." Captain Kerion's voice resonated from the front, shattering his thoughts. "We have a job to do."

  Baelis groaned. "As long as I get paid."

  Crossing an ancient stone bridge, they found the other side, where an open wooden gate greeted them.

  “Are you sure this it?” questioned Baelis, observing the gate.

  “It should be,” the captain responded. He led them through and into the village. As they passed each house, they quickly noticed a dreadful stench that plagued the air.

  Baelis instinctively pinched his nostrils together. “It smells like shit.”

  “That is not the smell of shit, I assure you.” Kerion stopped them beside the village’s well. The rangers looked at their surroundings. There was not a soul in sight. The village laid quiet, as if sleeping.

  "Perhaps they overslept," said Baelis, laughing to himself.

  Kerion wheeled his mount around, observing each house closely from a distance. Nova saw as his eyes suddenly stopped on one in particular.

  “Draw your weapons,” the captain commanded, his gaze focused. “Stay together, and remain vigilant.”

  Nova drew his sword and looked around, alert. In the corner of his eye, he spotted someone coming to him. He turned and saw that it was an elderly man, draped in a tattered brown robe. The old man’s feet stumbled one after another, his arms slowly swaying at his side. His skin looked unusual, almost as if rotten. He whispered something under his breath, but Nova could understand none of it. Staring at the sight of the old villager, Nova could only think back to his father's stories.

  “You, halt there,” warned Kerion, who turned to face the elderly figure. The old man ignored the captain's order, and approached Nova. Startled, his horse reared up and squealed, throwing the young ranger to the ground. Turning around, the horse then abandoned him and fled from the scene, an act that left the others in a frenzy. Kerion and the other rangers struggled trying to rein in their mounts.

  There was a horrific, rotten smell that permeated into Nova’s nostril. He winced at the pain from his back, and looked up. He saw the old man’s eyes, which looked as though veiled by a dense fog, idly staring at the ground beneath. He observed the rest of his face and saw it was horribly mangled, with a scar that extended across his face and crooked, rotten teeth that flashed from his gaping mouth.

  Suddenly, the old man’s eyes darted to meet his. Nova panicked and tried to back away. But the old man was quick and lunged for him, screaming. Nova shouted and ducked as Kerion emerged with his longsword. Acting swiftly, he took aim and struck the old man’s forehead with the flat of his blade. The old man reeled in pain, growling like a feral dog. “Stay back!” Kerion shouted, pointing his sword.

  But the old man ignored his warning and charged once more, this time towards the captain. Kerion fortified his stance and raised his sword in anticipation. When the old man came within close proximity, he swung and cleaved off his head with a precise, calculated motion.

  Nova saw the old man’s headless corpse drop, and looked at Kerion gratefully. As the initial rush that flowed through his veins wore off, Nova came back to his feet with the help of his captain.

  “Recall your horse,” said Kerion with haste, as he turned back to his. “We need to leave.”

  Nova nodded, and he brought his fingers into his mouth to whistle, but suddenly stopped. Dozens of other villagers had emerged from nearby and were starting to surround them. Each one seemed more harrowing than the last. Their bodies were horribly mangled—their limbs bent at unnatural angles, flesh rotten, and eyes clouded with a sickly gray haze. Like the old man had, the villagers seemed to be quietly chanting something.

  Kerion remounted his steed. “With me, stay together!”

  Nova called for his horse and prepared his blade. As the first villager lunged at them, the mob's coarse whispers turned into guttural roars.