15

Little Vadim hadn’t played near the edge of the village in a while. Not since that Ranger had slaughtered a bunch of imperial soldiers right before his eyes. But the soldiers had all left, and news had reached Istoki the day before that even the Ranger was gone now. So Vadim thought perhaps it was finally safe for him to venture out of view of the cramped little home he shared with his parents and siblings. Besides, he was nine years old now, and his mother had told him that he must start acting like it.

Just to be extra careful, he had gone to the western edge of Istoki, as far from the spot where he’d encountered the Ranger as one could go and still be in the village. He sat on top of an old, broken piece of fence and played with his rag doll. He assured his doll that there was now nothing to be scared of. No soldiers, no Rangers. Perhaps even the nightmares would stop.

He looked out at the freshly plowed fields that stretched to the west. They would begin planting tomorrow, which was always a busy but exciting time. Even Vadim would help this year, since he was nine. Plenty old enough to carry his own weight, his mother had said.

As he stared out into the field, noting with trepidation just how big it was and just how much work it would actually entail to cover it all, he noticed that the earth was moving toward him.

No, not the earth. But something brown and gray upon the earth. A great mass of brown and gray, moving with slow but purposeful steps. Like marching.

He stared at it for a long time, trying to figure out what it might be. An animal migration of some kind? Unfortunately, Vadim had poor eyesight for long distances. His mother always talked about going to one of the bigger towns like Kamen, or even Gogoleth, to get him some spectacles, but she hadn’t actually done it yet. She said maybe after his tenth birthday.

Finally, after watching the mass move toward him for a long stretch of time, Vadim realized that it was people. People with white hair, gray skin, and brown robes. He’d never seen anything like it. He wondered what kind of people they were.

Then something came rushing toward him. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach, and he was knocked off the fence.

He landed on his back in the damp soil. Pain throbbed in his gut, radiating outward. He tried to move, but all he could do was lift his head. He stared uncomprehendingly at the thick, wooden end of the spear that protruded from his stomach. Blood was everywhere. Just like when the Ranger came. Except this time, the blood was all his.

Then a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see the gray people with white hair, now quite close. So close that he could see their yellow, lifeless eyes, and grinning lipless mouths.

Dimly, he thought he knew what kind of people they were now. Dead people.

As his eyes slowly closed, he hoped they would just let him be, and not make him join their dead army.

That wish, at least, was fulfilled. A moment later, one of the undead stepped indifferently on his head, crushing his skull.

The army of sluagh gorta continued to trample his lifeless body until there was nothing but ragged bits of flesh, bone, and cloth.

Clan Seacál had at last arrived in Izmoroz with the full might of the Uaine Empire.