2

They reached Whitebridge a couple of hours later, by his best guess, with thankfully only a couple of those things to impede them, rather than the hordes they'd endured up to that point. When he saw real, actual people, Olaf nearly started crying. The nightmare had been only happening a few hours, but it had felt like an eternity, like it might never end and there were no more people to be found. They were stopped by six guards holding long, sharp spears. "Off your horse," one of them barked. "Now!"

Olaf waited until Kreszentia dismounted, then did so himself, lifting his hands to show he had no intention of reaching for a weapon or anything. He looked to the rightmost of the six, a thankfully familiar face—a friendly face. "Rolf, what's going on?"

"Strip!" the man in the lead said before Rolf could reply. "Now. All three of you. Strip!"

"Strip?" Olaf echoed, but he was too tired and bewildered to argue, simply reached for his cloak pin.

Rolf shifted, eyeing each of them before returning his gaze to Olaf. "To make sure you ain't been bitten. We already killed ten of them. One was Alice."

Anna's little sister; she'd been planning to marry Rolf's brother next spring. Olaf flinched. "Of course. I'm so sorry." He worked as quickly as he could, but he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes opened, and his fingers fumbled with every step. Cloak. Hat. Gloves. Belt. Jacket. Boots. Shirt and trousers, under clothes and socks. What a time to be naked to the whole damned world.

Dropping the last of it, he, Bianka, and Kreszentia stood naked before the three guards. "We're unmarked," Olaf said. "If we'd been bitten, we'd already have turned."

"Better safe than sorry." The man in the lead signaled, and Rolf and two other guards stepped forward to inspect them, carefully and thoroughly, for any bites or scratches. "Marks on your face?" the guards examining Olaf asked.

"Branches. We had to go through Knot and back again. Lucky I didn't lose a fucking eye." Or his whole damned face.

The man grunted and withdrew, and a moment later the other two did as well. "All clear, Lieutenant."

Lieutenant. Olaf didn't roll his eyes, but only because he was too tired. If the man was a lieutenant, he'd been one for hours at most, and probably nothing but a farmer right before that. Probably the rank he'd made in his mandatory army days, but those looked to be well behind him. Not that Olaf was fit to judge. His swords skills were mediocre at best, but he didn't go around styling himself 'lieutenant' either.

Five, he was so tired.

"Get across the bridge, then you can redress," the lieutenant said. "Make haste, the builders need time to work to modify the bridge. If you'd gotten here any later, you'd be stuck on this side until someone came with a boat."

Olaf didn't bother to ask, just gathered his belongings, grabbed the reins of his horse, and hastened across the bridge. He'd never been so painfully aware of being nude, of being vulnerable, in his life. If he got killed by one of those things while his dick was hanging out, he'd come back to life just to take the good lieutenant with him. The moment he was well clear of it, he dropped his pile, sorted it out, and pulled his clothes back on. Thank the Five it wasn't the middle of winter.

When he was finally dressed again, and had made certain Bianka and Kreszentia were well, he turned his full attention back to the soldiers. "My son, Lukas, did he and the others make it, then?"

"Two children and a man arrived several hours ago. No one since."

Olaf closed his eyes, grief stomping on his heart and burning through his body once more. It wasn't fair. They'd all just wanted to go home. Dead, just like that. Sacred Five, he hoped they were dead, let them have been given that much peace.

One man. That meant Traudl was dead, and Fiete or Utz. "The man, what did he look like?"

Rolf looked at him with dark eyes full of sympathy. "Dark skin, black hair, large hoops in his ears and a small one in his nose."

"Fiete," Bianka said hoarsely. "That means Traudl and Utz didn't make it. Damn it. DAMN IT ALL." She screamed, dropping to her knees and beating the ground until Olaf managed to grab her arms and make her stop. They were bloody from the loose stones covering the road, and must hurt just from the beating, but she didn't seem to care. Sobbing so hard her body heaved with them, Bianka buried her face in the hollow of Olaf's throat and clung tightly.

Olaf held fast, crying with her, though he was too wrung out for the sobbing that would come later, after food and rest, after the grief had truly settled in and could no longer be pushed back by the horror-induced numbness.

They'd been so close to home. Bothering no one. It had been a beautiful night. Everything was fine. He'd been planning on taking Lukas fishing, for the love of the Five.

How had it gone so horribly fucking wrong?

Eventually, the soldiers from Whitebridge tugged at them. "I'm sorry, I wish I could let you grieve and move in your own time, but we have to get to safety. Come on, your friends wouldn't want you dead too."

Rolf added, "The kids need you too. I know you haven't forgotten about them, but the sooner they see you, the better. I'm sorry, I really really am. I wish I could do anything for you, Olaf, Bianka. Alice…" He pinched his eyes shut. "I'm just glad it was me, not my brother."

"I'm so sorry, Rolf," Bianka said, and hugged him tightly. "She loved you, was already calling you her brother."

"She was as much my sister as Greta. Come on, we'll cry together later." He helped her onto her horse, then swung in front of her so she didn't have to deal with the reins with her wounded hands.

Olaf let them help him to his feet, and stayed close to Bianka they headed a short distance down the road to the large, gated entrance to the town of Whitebridge. "Where are the children?"

"This way," Rolf said quietly. "I took them to my home, for my sister to look after."

"Thank you."

They walked in silence, every step like slogging through thick mud. Around him he could feel stares, hear whispers, but all his energy was on the walking. One step. Another step. One, two, one, two, stumble, one, two.

When they finally came to a halt, it took him a moment to realize Rolf had stopped him with a hand to his chest. "We're here, come on," Rolf said, voice still so soft and gentle that Olaf nearly started crying again.

Inside, the house was cool and smelled of the herbs and dried fruit hanging from the ceiling, and bread baking in the stove. A handsome woman with light brown skin and hundreds of freckles greeted them, but before Olaf could reply, he was distracted by the sound of pounding feet.

A moment later, Lukas came into view and burst into tears before launching himself into Olaf's arms, so much like he had back in the field. Worse, though, so much worse, because he'd probably thought Olaf was dead this time. Like Achim, and Traudl, and Utz. Like their entire fucking village.

"Luk, Luk, I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry for everything. I'm glad you're all right."

"Daddy," Lukas sobbed into his shoulder. "The monsters got Aunt Traudl and Uncle Utz."

"I know, darling, I know." Olaf just held him tight and let him cry.

Movement caught his eye, and he looked up to see an ashen, wan Ulli watching them, eyes wide and haunted, red and bruised-looking from crying. Of all the cruelties they'd endured that night, the worst had to be Ulli losing his mother. Traudl should have been the parent to survive, damn it. He wasn't nearly good enough to look after Ulli in her stead.

He would, though. He would do his best until his dying day. The only other option was to separate Ulli and Lukas, and that would be a death sentence of a different sort. No, so far as he was concerned, he now had two sons. Whatever it took for Ulli to be all right—as all right as any child would be after the night they'd just barely survived. Olaf held out his free arm, and Ulli raced to him, crying his heart out over his dead mother. "I'm so sorry, Ulli. I'm so sorry." He kissed the top of the boy's head and held him as tightly as he could. Held them both, and wished it was enough to keep them safe.

Wished it would take their pain away. Olaf would do anything in the world to take their pain away, but all he could do was sit there and hold them until exhaustion won out over tears. When they finally calmed, he had them drink water and eat a bit of soup that Rolf's sister offered, then got them back upstairs and into bed, where thankfully they fell almost instantly to sleep.

There would be questions and more when they woke, but for a few hours at least, they could forget all the terrible things that had just happened.

Unable to bear leaving them, Olaf settled in, using his bundled cloak to cushion his head as he rested it against the wall. He'd sit for a few minutes, make certain they stayed asleep and didn't wake up from any nightmares, and then go downst…

He woke badly needing to piss. Grunting, Olaf heaved to his feet and stumbled downstairs and out the door, vaguely noting the people at the table watching him and trying to speak as he hastened outside. He then looped behind the house until he found a suitable place that seemed dedicated to the purpose. When that minor emergency had been addressed, he washed his hands at the water pump he spied, then used more water to clean his face and run through his hair. He'd kill for a proper bath and shave, some clean clothes, but such niceties would have to wait.

Feeling moderately more awake, he headed back into the house. Sunlight beat down on him but judging by the stiffness of his muscles and his sore neck, he'd fallen asleep in the chair and stayed there for quite some time.

Inside, he focused properly this time on the people gathered around a large, rough-hewn table. "Should I say good morning or good afternoon?"

"Morning," the woman standing by the stove said, holding a kettle as she turned fully to face him. He vaguely remembered her from the night before, and by their similar features, this must be Rolf's sister Greta, whom he'd always talked about so fondly. "I'm Greta. You're Olaf, right? Rolf has spoken of you many times. I'm sorry this is how we finally are meeting."

"Me too," Olaf said gruffly. "I'm going to check on the children; I'll be right back."

Greta smiled and gestured. "We'll be here, and there'll be breakfast waiting for you too."

"Thank you," Olaf said, nearly crying again for no good reason at all.

Upstairs, the kids were still fast asleep, but it looked as though they'd woken briefly, because they had damp hair and new clothes. How hard had he been sleeping to miss so much activity? Sacred Five, Traudl was dead. So was Paul, her husband. Ulli was an orphan.

Nothing remained of Rochdale but five of them: Olaf, Bianka, Fiete, Lukas, and Ulrike. Gone in a single night, as easy as that. It seemed so cruel and unfair.

Olaf took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Grieve later. Right now, they had to make certain Whitebridge and all the surrounding villages didn't come to the same fate. Retrieving his sword, he headed back downstairs.

Greta was still there, along with Bianka, Fiete, and Kreszentia. There was also Rolf and two people Olaf didn't recognize, though by the expensive clothes on the old man, he was the town mayor.

Bianka motioned to a seat next to her on one of the long benches on either side of the table. Olaf sat and thanked Greta when she set a bowl of porridge, drowned in berries, nuts, honey and milk, in front of him. "What have I missed?"

"Not much, really," the old man said. "I'm Quirin, Mayor of Whitebridge. We've sent messengers out to all the surrounding villages, and also sent three off to the capital in case… Well, just in case. We were about to discuss what else can be done, because even if one of the messages reaches Her Majesty, help will arrive too little too late."

"Does anything destroy them?" Olaf asked and looked at Kreszentia. "Didn't you say there's something that can? Or am I confusing things?"

Kreszentia sipped at her tea, looking grim. "The answer is complicated. Some of the minor Risen Dead can be killed with extreme fire, especially if it's holy fire, that part of your legend is accurate. But fire at the heat that is necessary is extremely difficult to manage and highly dangerous, depending on how many need to be killed at once—and we're already severely outnumbered. We'd probably burn this whole damned valley down and still wouldn't get them all. Not as things stand now."

"So what, we wait to die?" Bianka asked. "I'll throw myself in a fire before I become one of those things."

"Nothing quite so severe. If we can take care of the Lich, cage it again, that will severely weaken, even stop, the other Risen Dead, and they'll be far easier to round up and burn safely. They get their power and drive from the Lich; without him, they're crippled. Unfortunately, the only way to stop a Lich, to get it caged again, is with a necromancer, and there are not even fifty necromancers on this entire continent. The nearest royal necromancers are a three-month ride from here—if the weather is perfect the whole time and no other problems arise. Then it would still be three months back." She held up a hand before they could voice any questions. "The one piece of good news I have is that a retired necromancer is only about a three-day journey away, up in the hills."

Olaf snorted. "You can't mean the Broken Hills. Nobody lives there. There's nothing there to make the place livable. Those hills are a barren nightmare of thorns and poison." Nothing lived there except a bunch of large, nasty bugs and the highly venomous rock serpents that fed on them. He knew the place better than he wanted because he'd had to go so many times to fetch lost kids, lost elderly, lost travelers… The stupid place was even further away from Rochdale, but somehow people winded up there time and again.

Kreszentia laughed. "Trust me, Korbinian is there. He went where no one would even think to go and bother him." More somberly, she said, "He is there, and he is our only chance of stopping this thing. The problem is that I cannot go get him myself. I'm the only one who knows anything about the Risen Dead, the only one who can use holy magic, though I'm going to try and teach the Whitebridge priest and his acolyte. Someone else will have to go get Korbinian. I can give directions and draw a map."

"I'll go," Bianka said.

"Your hands, though," Olaf said, nodding to them. They were covered in light bandaging, but he could see stains of blood on some of the knuckles.

"They'll be fine," Bianka said. "The local priest treated them. By tomorrow morning I'll be good as new. I'm the best for the job. I know the Hills fairly well, since it was always me or Olaf going to find the stupid people who get lost there, and of the lot of us, I'm the best in a fight and on a horse. Also, I'm one of the few who's already faced those things, and any experience is better than none." She closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Honestly, if I hold still for too long, I'll go fucking insane."

Greta's mouth pinched. "What about—"

"Don't," Bianka said, voice cracking like a whip.

Olaf leveled a look at her, faint seeds of curiosity all throughout their trip growing into full fledges suspicions. "What about what, Bianka?"

"Nothing—"

"She's pregnant," Greta said at the same time.

Bianka slammed her fists on the table. "Damn it, woman, I said don't. What part of that did you not understand?"

"I can't let you risk the child," Greta said. "I'm sorry."

Olaf wanted to laugh and cry and go back to sleep. "Who's the father?"

Bianka pinched her eyes shut, tears falling down her cheeks before she angrily wiped them away. "Utz. I was going to tell him when we got home."

"You're not going," Olaf said flatly. "That leaves me."

"You can't," Bianka said. "Lukas and Ulli need you, Olaf. If you die—"

"You'll be here, and you'll soon have a new little sister or brother for them to train to be as mischievous as them." Olaf stood, even as fear roiled in his stomach and set his heart to racing like a scared rabbit. "You and I know those Hills better than anyone, and like you said, we've survived those things once, so we stand a better chance of doing it a second time. I can make it there in three days and three back. Seven days at most. Priest—"

"Senta is fine," Kreszentia said. "Thank you, by the way, for saving my life. I never would have survived the night if you hadn't come for me. I'm grateful to you both. We'll hold the line here. You go get Korbinian. I'll send a letter with you, to help. Give me just a few minutes."

"I have to go talk to the kids, anyway."

"I'll come with you," Bianka said. "Need the practice, right?"

Olaf smiled, sad and sweet, and squeezed her hand briefly before leading the way back up the stairs of Greta's house. He owed her greatly for her generosity; hopefully he'd be able to repay it when this nightmare was over. He'd have to see about securing a house in Whitebridge until this nightmare was over and he sorted out what to do next.

Upstairs, the kids were thankfully already awake, huddled together on the bed crying quietly, Lukas clearly doing his best to be there for his friend. "Daddy," he said softly when he saw them. "It's all our fault. We did this. We're the reason everyone is dead. We thought it was just a stupid box. We wanted to see if there was really old bones inside. We didn't— We didn't mean to kill everyone. Kill Aunt Traudl."

"Oh, Lukas, you boys aren't responsible for this," Olaf said. "Even if you did open the box… it wasn't your fault there was really a monster inside. Someone should have made certain the box couldn't be opened, or even touched, by other people, until they knew for certain what was inside. Nobody knew there was a monster. The only one to blame for the deaths is the monster." He sat down and pulled them both close, let them cry, heart breaking all over again—and further still that he had to give them the news he was leaving.

When he got back, he was really going to need the whole of the tale, but right then, the details just didn't matter.

Eventually, they calmed, and he managed to get them cleaned up and properly dressed for the day. Then he knelt on the floor in front of them and took their hands. "I know you need me right now, and I do not want to leave you—"

"Daddy, no!"

"Lukas, listen. This is important. There is a man who can help us; he lives up in the Broken Hills. Someone needs to go get him, though, and right now I'm the only one who can."

"Daddy, don't!"

"Uncle Olaf, no!"

He hugged them tightly. "I'll be careful and quick. You know I've been there a hundred times, and the monsters haven't made it that far yet." He hoped. "You'll be safe here, protected by the river, and Aunt Bianka will have her sword the whole time. I know you're scared, but you can do this. I need you to be strong and brave for me. Stay close to the house, listen to Aunt Bianka and Miss Greta. Help her with whatever she needs. I'll be back in seven days. I promise."

Lukas sniffled, clearly wanting to keep protesting, but he jutted his chin out and nodded. "Yes, Daddy. We'll be brave." He gripped Ulli's hand so tightly their knuckles stood out. "Just come back."

"I will. I am sorry, so so sorry, about your mother, Ulli. She would be happy to know you are alive. You were everything to her."

Ulli nodded and pinched his eyes shut as tears resumed falling. There weren't really any words that could soothe such a deep and cutting grief, so Lukas simply hugged him again, then picked him up, even though carrying an eleven-year-old wasn't the lightest task in the world, and carried him downstairs, Bianka doing the same with Lukas right behind him.

Once they were settled at the table with food, the others providing comfort and distraction, he headed outside with Bianka.

"So… you and Utz, huh?"

Bianka laughed-sniffled. "Oh, shut up. It was like three times. We were careful, but clearly not careful enough. I've been putting off telling him because the stupid bastard would probably have insisted on marrying me and building a bigger house down by the lake and having even more kids. He was always the biggest softie in the village."

"You would have loved it."

"Yeah," Bianka said, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes as tears got the better of her. "I would have, damn him. Doesn't really matter now." She wiped her eyes. "You be careful out there, all right? We three are all that's left, and you were always the heart of our group, Olaf. Those kids especially need you right now. It should be me going."

Olaf flicked her nose. "Absolutely not, you stubborn ass. Honestly, it continually amazes me you made it all the way to captain before the army finally got sick of you."

"They got sick of me being right. I mean it, Olaf. Be careful. We've lost everyone. I don't want to add you to the list."

"Same goes for you. Stay here and stay safe. I don't want to return to find out I've lost the rest of you."

She hugged him tightly, tears falling in the hollow of his throat. "See you in seven days, you toad-faced bastard."

"Seven days, Captain. Now get out of my face."

She playfully smacked his cheek, kissed the other one, and slipped back inside. Sighing, Olaf went around the back of the house to the stables, where he set to work preparing his horse. At least he looked rested, and someone had taken the time to clean him up properly. Olaf really did owe Greta and Rolf when this was over. Leading the horse out of the stable, he got the saddle and bags in place, then affixed his sword, bow, and bedroll. He'd have to stop off somewhere for supplies, enough food for two as he wasn't certain what kind of travel provisions this necromancer would have.

A necromancer… He'd only ever heard of them, had never even really believed they were real. Why would they be? A mage who dealt exclusively in controlling death? Why would anybody want to do that? Olaf shuddered. Those things though. The story. The Lich… Clearly necromancers had a purpose.

Olaf had been happier thinking it was all a bunch of spook tales.

He jumped as he heard feet and whipped around—and immediately felt stupid when he saw it was only Senta. "Sorry."

"No, no, the apologies are entirely mine," Senta said. "After last night, it's a miracle none of us are accidentally cutting each other's heads off, frankly. Here, I've got the map, directions, and a letter for Körbl." She handed everything over, then hesitated.

"What?" Olaf asked. "Just tell me."

"Nothing dramatic," Senta said. "Korbinian can be… stand-offish. He's had a hard life. It's what drove him to live alone in the middle of nowhere before he was even thirty. He'll want to help, though. Just don't let his rudeness drive you away or anything. I promise he softens as you get to know him."

Olaf laughed. "Ever tried to get a mule-ish five-year-old to eat their breakfast? Trust me, I can handle a cranky loner."

"Be kind, please. You've no idea what he's gone through."

"How about what we've gone through?" Olaf snapped. "Is he going to care about that?"

"More than you can possibly ever imagine," Senta said, quietly but with steel. "He began his necromancer training when he was five and ate the man who raised him and trained him not long after his twenty-first birthday. He cares enough about what he does to consume the man who was like a father to him. His actual father…" Senta's mouth set into a grim line. "That's not my story to tell but trust me when I say that Körbl is probably the only person in the whole world who understands what you—what your son—is going through right now. He just won't be very nice about it."

Olaf sighed. "Fair enough. All right, I'll do my best. We'll be back in ideally seven days. If we're not back in ten, consider us a lost cause. Don't let them send anyone to search."

"I'll do my best," Senta echoed with a smile.

"Keep them safe for me, my new friend?"

"On the Five, I swear to you I will. Go with Their Blessing and returning swiftly and safely."

Olaf hugged her tightly. "Blessing to you, to all. Be safe." He stepped away and mounted up and rode off before fear got the better of him.

He stopped briefly at a couple of shops to load up supplies, and then rode off out of town. Down the road, the bridge had been partially dismantled, and men were working quickly, jumpy and anxious, to turn it into a drawbridge.

Rolf lifted a hand in greeting. "Hey. Just got here a few minutes ago, told them you'd be coming. There's a temporary bridge a short way down, I'll take you."

Olaf nodded, not really inclined to speak. He hadn't even started the journey, and he was already wrung out by it.

When they reached the bridge, a narrow, rickety thing that would never hold up to hard use—like say, a horde of Ravenous—Olaf turned to Rolf. "Take care of them for me, please? I'm so sorry about Alice. How is your brother?"

"Hanging on, though not by much," Rolf said sadly. "He's with our parents; they'll see to him. You just focus on you."

"I told the others the same, but I'm telling you too: if I'm not back in ten days, give me up for lost and don't send anyone after me."

"I understand," Rolf said. "I hate it, I fucking hate it, but I understand. Five bless your journey and bring you home soon."

"Home soon," Olaf echoed, hugged him, and then led his horse across the rickety bridge. He didn't have a home anymore. His home had been eaten and razed by monsters—had turned into monsters.

He had his son, though. Ulli. Bianka and Fiete. They'd get through this. He hoped.

When he was across the bridge, Olaf mounted up, lifted a hand in farewell, then turned his horse in the direction of the Broken Hills and rode off.