Don Bassingthwaite - The Eye of the Chained God

“Is our destination still beyond Winterhaven?”

Albanon nodded. He didn’t even have to think about it.

Thair shouted down. “Uldane, go to Wrafton’s! I’ll meet you-my shift is done soon. You’ll find everybody there anyway.”

Uldane answered him with a salute, then gestured for the others to ride with him. “Wrafton’s is Winterhaven’s inn,” he said. “We’ll find answers there. It’s the busiest place in the village.”

Albanon doubted that even the busiest place in Winterhaven was all that busy. After the crush of refugees in Fallcrest, Winterhaven seemed deserted. The smoke they had seen from the other side of the wall rose from only a handful of more than a dozen buildings. There were few people abroad and those who were stared as if frankly surprised that anyone had come to their village. All of them went armed. There were no children and no noises that might have suggested children at play in any of the buildings. In fact, the entire village was eerily quiet.

Even Uldane looked unsettled. He pointed across at a market cart that stood abandoned on one side of a wide square of beaten earth. Spiderwebs had gathered in the corners of the cart’s frame and patchy grass grew around its wheel. “That’s Delphina Moongem’s stall. She sold wildflowers out of it. She’d never let it look like that.”

None of them had anything to say in response.

Wrafton’s Inn was a long stone building with a high slate roof. No stableboy emerged to take their horses. Uldane showed them to the stables himself. Somewhat to Albanon’s surprise, there were several other horses in the stalls, a curious mix of good riding mounts and big beasts of burden. Uldane’s uneasy expression deepened. “I know these horses,” he said. “This one belongs to a farmer who lives just outside the walls. This one belongs to the local lord. Both of them have their own stables.”

“They could have ridden them here,” said Immeral.

“Both of them live within easy walking distance.” Uldane shook his head and led them out. “Come inside-we need to talk to whoever’s here.”

The interior of the inn was as grim as Albanon had imagined it would be. The big common room was as silent as a tomb and nearly as dark, the windows shuttered and the shutters secured with heavy bolts, the latter a recent addition by the look of them. There were people present, but nearly all of them lay asleep across benches or draped over tables. Early in the day to be passed out drunk, Albanon thought, then he realized that the sleepers wore various forms of armor and slept with weapons close to hand. The inn had become a kind of barracks.

The only conscious people huddled in a small knot around the bar, deep in discussion. Several moments passed before one of them looked up and noticed that the newcomers weren’t Winterhaveners. He nudged an older woman next to him. She practically jumped at his touch, then saw them and came over. “How can I help you, travelers-”

Her voice died as she laid eyes on Uldane and for an instant she froze. Then she rushed forward, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around the halfling, hugging him and crying. Uldane, a little smothered, did his best to soothe her. “Easy, Salvana,” he mumbled. “Easy. It’s all right.”

“I can’t help it,” said the woman over his shoulder. “It’s just that with so many people gone, seeing someone I know again-” She broke into a fresh round of sobs.

The door behind them opened. Albanon looked back to see Thair coming through. The dwarf’s eyes fell on Uldane and Salvana and he winced.

“Aye, sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you. Things can get a little emotional around here. You should have seen her when Shara came by.”

He might as well have pulled out a bucket of water and drenched them. Albanon blinked and stared at him. So did Roghar, Tempest, and Belen. Uldane pulled himself out of Salvana’s hug to turn and face Thair. “Shara’s been here? Recently?” he asked, his voice cracking a little bit.

Thair’s eyebrows rose. “Just three days ago.” He looked around at all of them. “You mean you didn’t know?”

It’s been hard around here lately,” said Thair. The dwarf sat at the center of one of the inn’s long tables, with Albanon, Uldane, and the others gathered close. The sleepers at the table had been cleared away to give them some room, but Salvana and the rest of those who had been gathered around the bar kept their eyes and ears on them. Albanon was fairly certain that more conversations would follow once Thair was done with them.

“It’s been hard everywhere lately,” Belen pointed out.

“Aye, I’ve heard that,” Thair said with a nod. “But it seemed like this cursed plague took hold around Winterhaven earlier. When there were only rumors in Fallcrest, there was near panic here. People were disappearing from the more isolated farms and hunting lodges.”

Albanon held back a wince. That had been Hakken Raid, spreading the beginnings of the Abyssal Plague for Vestapalk while the dragon laired at the Temple of Yellow Skulls. He and Kri had used that time to try and plan a trap for Raid-a trap that had ended in Albanon’s own capture by Raid. How many lives might they have saved by acting swiftly and warning Winterhaven instead?

How many more lives might he have saved by not hiding in Fallcrest for the last week?

Thair seemed oblivious to his unease, however. His eyes had taken on a distant look, as if he stared at horrors he’d rather forget. “We pulled back inside the village walls, of course, but it was too late. Some were already infected with the plague-we didn’t realize then that it passes through the wounds inflicted by the demons-and they transformed among us. We had to kill them, but they weren’t the folk we knew anymore. The people they wounded before they were put down, though…”

He sighed, reached for his tankard, and took a deep swallow of thin beer, the best Salvana had been able to set before them. “We still knew them.”

“You had no priest among you?” asked Roghar. “The holy light of the gods can sometimes purge the plague from the infected.”

Thair’s chuckle was bitter. “We haven’t seen Sister Linara in weeks. She didn’t spend much time in Winterhaven to start with. She loved ministering to those on the outlying farms. We think the demons got her early.” Thair sipped again, then set the tankard down. “At first we only saw the demons at night, so we thought it was safe to leave the village during the day. We found out that wasn’t true. After that, we went out in squads, gathered all the crops we could and drove any livestock we could find back into the village. We’ve been living well enough, but it’s not much of a life.”

“If that’s the case,” said Uldane quietly, “it seems like there should be more people around.”

“Not everyone wants to live under siege.” Thair gestured around the inn. “We’re the ones who are too stubborn to leave what we’ve built-or too weak or too stupid. Everyone else fled in various groups to look for sanctuary in Fallcrest.” He dropped his voice. “If Salvana asks whether you’ve seen anyone safe in Fallcrest, I suggest you lie.”

Albanon nodded numbly along with the others. Had he heard of any refugees from Winterhaven in Fallcrest? Granted there had been other things on his mind, but the town was so packed with people that there must been some from Winterhaven.

On the other hand, he hadn’t heard Uldane mention any and surely the halfling would have.

Nor did he now. Instead, all he asked was “Shara?”

“She stopped for a night about three days ago, like I said. It looked as if she’d been travelling and sleeping rough-not that that’s anything to worry about with her. Borojon taught his daughter well. It seemed like she was just looking to take a night indoors.” Thair’s face tightened. “Her and her… friend.”