Chapter 21: Courage

After concealing the wagon and mule, loaned to them for the job, the trio continued towards the village. Gradually, the trail developed into an old, overgrown lane winding between dilapidated buildings choked in vines and brush. Ahead of them, in the middle of the settlement, rose a steep hill, upon which stood a stone tower with a partially collapsed rook adjoining a cottage. A dirt road hugged the base of the hill and wended its way between old stone houses, many of which were roofless ruins open to the weather. The whole place was draped by an eerie silence.

On the outskirts, they found a wooden sign nailed to a nearby post. A shiver ran up his spine that had nothing to do with the cool midmorning breeze. It read, 'DANGER, Turn Back! Only death dwells here!'

"Father," Yulia whined softly from behind his leg, "The air...feels...wrong." He'd forgotten the girl couldn't read common and was taking her cues from him. The Tiefling was practically quivering. Not knowing what to say he placed a hand reassuringly atop her head, before nodding to Lesmythe. Jaw tight the half-elf pulled the girl close to her.

He'd wanted so desperately to leave them both with the wagon, but neither could be persuaded to stay. Lesmythe's health had improved, but she wasn't ready for combat. Yulia...was Yulia. He could only pray that whatever threats they met he could handle them on his own. The apothecary had insisted the village was abandoned, but Alidorim couldn't help but feel doubt. He recalled a young lad in the guild mentioning monsters in Thundertree. He was hiring an escort to collect herbs. Had that been the long-lost assistant?

The Dragonborn wasn't taking any chances and made sure the girls stayed behind him. Drawing his short sword, he advanced into the village. The client had mentioned the herbs grew in heavily shaded areas in soil rich with volcanic ash. With the lanes exposed to direct sunlight that only left the buildings themselves to explore.

The first structure they approached was a crumbled stone cottage rampant with weeds cowering in the shadow of an old tree. Peeking through a window he saw nothing but rotted furniture and a pair of twisted saplings near the door.

Moving on they approached the next pair of buildings. These ruined, side-by-side cottages looked as though they might've housed some prosperous shopkeepers or well-off farmers in their time. All that remained were collapsed walls and piles of debris. Several young trees grew up amid rubble and masonry. He got a good look inside the cottages before retreating. No herbs but one of the flagstones had been pried up from the floor recently.

When he explained what he'd seen Lesmythe suggested that the assistant's party may have been looting while he collected herbs. That might also explain the assistant's disappearance. His escort was too busy looking for treasure rather than doing their jobs.

The theories could wait. They still had many buildings to search and plenty of daylight left.

A weathered signboard by the door of the next building depicted the faded image of a workhorse holding a flagon of ale. The large building was sagging and dilapidated, but it was more intact than the previous ruins. Weapon ready, Alidorim entered what had once been a tavern. In the dim light of the room, he spotted four humanoid corpses scattered about the room beneath mounds of packed ash. Even after thirty years the smell of yeast still permeated the air amidst the scents of mold and decomposition.

Alidorim's hackles rose as he heard Yulia whimper. She was gripping Lesmythe's hand, face buried in her cloak. Wide-eyed and pale the woman pointed. Alidorim turned in time to see one of the previously immobile mounds begin to rise. The packed ash crumbled away revealing one of the town's previous residents, half-rotted. Raising its arms, the desiccated corpse twisted its sunken features in the direction of the trio. Its mouth opened impossibly wide and issued a stomach-churning moan.

The prescient warning outside the village suddenly became abundantly clear.

Yulia screamed in terror, but the Dragonborn was already moving. In two strides he closed the distance and slammed the hilt of his weapon into the creature's skull. Dried flesh and fragile bone shattered in a puff of grey smoke.

"Look out!" Lesmythe yelled. The three other corpses were beginning to stir. Alidorim had to move quickly lest one of the creatures' slip passed him. Drawing his arming sword, he leaped toward the first zombie, cleaving its head in twain before it had a chance to fully rise.

The second one was just beginning to reach for him when the short sword opened his chest and face in an upward slash. A cloud of grey smoke spewed from where its innards should've been. Alidorim swiped at his face as his eyes burned. Coughing and gagging, he could barely make out the fourth zombie lurching toward him. He slashed hoping to catch his attacker, but he'd misjudged the distance and hit only air.

The zombie slammed into him. Unable to see straight Alidorim was grappled to the floor by the undead. He was forced to release his weapons to keep the creature at bay. The Dragonborn struggled but couldn't get the leverage to turn the tables, but neither did the walking corpse have the strength to press his advantage.

"Lesmythe! Stab him!" he growled struggling just to maintain his position. He could smell the rot on the zombies' breath. Through the haze, he could just make out the half-elf standing back shielding Yulia. They both looked terrified. "In the head!" he shouted as his shoulders strained to hold the creature, "Hurry!"

"I can't!" she yelled, her voice quivering. She was shaking so fiercely her hands trembled uncontrollably. Just then her crest blossomed with light and she screamed, collapsing to her knees she clutched at her chest. Yulia yelped in alarm, ducking down and covering her head. She was saying something in Infernal, but he couldn't make out what.

"Lesmythe!" The teeth gnashed mere inches from his snout, "I can't fight this thing and protect Yulia!" The woman still knelt on the ground groaning beneath the pain of her disobedience. Did she truly prefer the pain over aiding him? Snarling the Dragonborn regained some distance but the creature remained firmly latched on. "If you can't help than your no good to me!" Grunting he managed to get a forearm beneath its chin and lever it upwards. "I'll take you back and find a slave who will!"

"No!" both Yulia and Lesmythe shouted.

"Then don't give in to fear!" he ordered turning his face away as undeath loomed closer and closer.

Suddenly a length of metal pierced the zombies' skull. The creature groaned once before falling limp. Growling in frustration he rolled it off and rose to his feet. The half-elf stood before him, blade in hand and breathing as heavily as her owner. The slave crest was no longer glowing. Eyes wide with shock Lesmythe said, "P-please m-master...d-don't throw me away." Her tone was desperate, almost pleading. It...wasn't what he'd expected.

She had obeyed. It took threatening to abandon her, but she had obeyed. More than that Lesmythe had used her weapon to save him and protect Yulia. Placing a hand on her shoulder Alidorim nodded respectfully, before turning to a quietly weeping Yulia. The girl embraced her father asking if he was okay and apologizing profusely for not helping.

After comforting her he said in as soothing a tone as he could muster, "This is our life, Yulia." Looking up at Lesmythe he added, "We do what we must to survive." This was their reality and they needed to live. There was nothing else but to fight for survival.

Unfortunately, there was also no time to question why undead would be infesting an abandoned village. They still had a job to do. He could only hope that between himself and Lesmythe's newfound courage they could handle any additional threats.

Even without the undead, Thundertree was a very bleak place. Everywhere she looked amidst the decay and ruin she saw signs of life. A smithy with tools scattered about an unfinished project, a plow in the middle of an overgrown field, a doll half-buried in the dirt. This was a village in the middle of living when whatever disaster had forced its abandonment. The apothecary had mentioned volcanic ash, so maybe the distant Mt. Hotenow had erupted? That would've been before she was born and it would explain the hasty evacuation, and why some hadn't made it.

Lesmythe shivered as she remembered the reanimated corpses shambling toward them. The icy grasp of fear on her heart that shocked her to inaction. The half-elf wasn't sure where it came from, but somehow, she found the courage to act. Her body had moved on its own, drawing the long knife and plunging it into the zombie's head. She could still recall the feeling of her blade piercing blighted flesh and bone.

"Don't give in to fear!" Alidorim had ordered. Had his command coupled with the effects of the slave crest overridden her terror? No. She had still been afraid, even the pain from the crest hadn't been enough to force her to act. So, maybe it was...something else?

Looking on she watched as the Dragonborn comforted his 'daughter.' The gentleness with which he spoke to her belied the violence he was capable of inflicting. She was berating herself for not staying at the wagon with Yulia, but if she had then would Alidorim have survived the zombies?

Seeing how he soothed the child and the look of love she returned filled her with a warmth she couldn't quite identify. What she did know was that this was her life now. She'd do whatever she must in order to survive.

They scoured the remnants of Thundertree for the herbs, but with little luck. Neither did they find any clues as to the whereabouts of the assistant and his escort. They did find evidence of their presence. In an herbalist shop they found unattended herbs growing rampant. In one section the soil had been turned as if someone had been digging. In a ruined store they found an abandoned knapsack, inside was an unused healing potion and 23 gold and 35 silver pieces. Whoever had dropped it had either been too scared to care or had no further need for it.

They encountered a couple more undead in an old garrison, but Alidorim was able to dispatch them. She had to admit that even taken by surprise he moved with disciplined grace. He must've honed his skills over the years of traveling alone. Or did he have a teacher? A family?

Looking at her master Lesmythe couldn't help but wonder, "How long has he been doing this alone?"

"Ah we have guests!" a voice called out.