Turning, Harrach padded cautiously from the ruined building, with Uwe on his heels. He saw no trace of Captain Evann anywhere, nor any signs of who might have taken him. If only it were light, he thought with a frown, he’d be able to look for tracks in the grass.
At the edge of the ruined village, he paused, listening over the low moan of the wind. He heard the susurrous hiss of wind blowing through the grass, the soft lapping of waves from the lake, but other than that … nothing. He shivered, a little unsettled. Out here he would have expected at least a few distant cries from owls hunting mice by moonlight, but no living creatures stirred.
Uwe lightly touched his arm. Harrach glanced over-impatiently. What was it?
Slowly, Uwe pointed toward the lake. Harrach followed the line of his finger to a pair of figures on the shore … a man and a woman? Could one of them be Captain Evann? Squinting, Harrach tried to see, but in the dimness he couldn’t quite tell.
“Come on,” he said, advancing for the lake cautiously. He had no intention of being taken by surprise—the waist-high grass could have hidden an entire army.
The figures on the shore turned and began walking away from them. They seemed to be walking on top of the water, heading toward the center of the lake. For a second, Harrach thought they had to be walking on ice, but then he saw the waves around them, under their feet.
Then, like an early morning mist, they vanished.
“Ghosts!” he breathed.
Uwe looked at him, bewildered. “That wasn’t the captain?” he asked. “What happened to him?
“Yes, it was Captain Evann,” Harrach said with a shudder, knowing somehow that it had been his friend and commander. “He’s beyond our help, though.”
Captain Evann felt himself drawn to this strange pale woman. Her kiss, long and lingering, left him hungry for more. He reached for her, but she shook her head and drew back.
“Who are you?” he whispered. “Why do I love you so?”
“This way, Terrill…”
Taking him by the hand, she led him to the lake.
He went willingly. Every time she looked at him, his heart fluttered in his chest like a dove’s wings. He wanted nothing more than to be with her for the rest of his life. He found himself gazing at her face, admiring her delicate nose, the soft curve of her cheek….
Taking his hand, she led him away from the village, down to the shore of the lake. There, without hesitation, she stepped onto the water and began walking away from the shore. He hesitated a moment, afraid of losing her, afraid of being left behind. The farther she got from him, the more desperate he became. Finally, unable to stand the thought of losing her, he ran after her.
Instead of splashing into the chill water, though, he found himself gliding like a ghost on top of it, but the movement seemed like the most natural thing in the world. He was amazed he’d never done it before. Catching up with her, he took her hand again, and she did not pull away. A deep contentedness filled him.
At last they came to a small, mist-shrouded island in the center of the lake. Here, the woman released his hand.
In a second she vanished, leaving him alone. He blinked and suddenly felt himself released from her spell. What had happened? Why had he gone with her? Had she been real?
Slowly he wandered forward, looking all around, and only then did he notice the bones. The whole island was covered in them … the pale weathered gray remains of many people. He swallowed as he picked up an arm bone, turning it to the moonlight. He noticed deep cut marks, the kind made by a sword, gouged into it. This person had been cut down in a battle of some kind.
He crossed the narrow rocky island, following the trail of skeletons. There had to be dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, but it must have happened many years ago for them to be this weathered.
“Terrill…” a soft voice whispered.
He turned. The woman had reappeared, but this time she didn’t touch him, didn’t do anything except float before him, her feet suspended half a foot from the ground.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Her voice was soft and hollow. “I am one of the people from the village where you camped.”
“But you’re …”
“A ghost,” she whispered. “Yes, Terrill…”
“What do you want?” he asked. “Why have you brought me here? To kill me?”
“We are forgotten here,” she said. “Behold—”
A blinding light surrounded him. Evann covered his eyes, crying out in surprise.
—And suddenly he heard battle cries and screams from women and children.
Opening his eyes, he gaped at the scene before him.
It had suddenly become daylight. He stood in the middle of the village as it must have looked many years ago. All the houses stood whole, their thatched roofs and brightly painted shutters in repair. The warm breeze ruffling his hair and beard tasted of summer, and he felt the hot sun on his back, smelled fresh-mown hay from the fields around the town—
Hooves thundered. He whirled to see a dozen horsemen in dark helms riding with swords drawn through the village. Women and children ran before them, screaming in terror. Here and there a few men stood, holding pitchforks and axes, trying in vain to drive them off.
Evann shuddered as he saw one, then another, and another of the villagers fall. The horsemen were cutting them all down, men and women and children alike. The warriors moved with mechanical speed, killing and killing and killing until the streets ran with blood—
“Enough!” he cried, covering his eyes. It was too terrible to watch.
Abruptly he stood on the island in the middle of the lake. The ghost floated before him.
“So …” she said.
Evann gave a shudder and met her eyes. “Who were they? The Hag’s minions?”
“Who?” she asked.
“The Hag—” he began, then stopped. They had probably never even heard of her. Their first encounter with her minions must have been their last.
“She is an abomination,” he said. “She rules this land now.”
“It must have been her,” the ghost said.
“What do you want of me?”
“Peace,” she whispered. “The quiet, easy sleep of those who rest in their graves….”
Harrach nodded. “That I would promise you,” he said, “but I have no way to get my men to this island. It’s been years since anyone lived here. There are no boats left anywhere on shore.”
“If you cannot come to us, we must come to you.”
Evann felt a strange stirring of energies, and around him the bones began to move. Body after body began to reassemble itself, bone crawling to bone, hand to arm to shoulder … foot to leg to pelvis … ribs—backbones—skulls—
One by one, the skeletons rose up before him— tens, then dozens of them, men and women and children. Empty eye sockets gaped at him; fleshless bones rattled as they moved.
Evann swallowed. This was magic, but somehow it felt good, like an age-old wound being closed. Slowly, the skeletons turned to face the shore, and then they began to walk out across the waves.
The ghostly woman took his hand and pulled him after them. Hardly daring to believe, Evann stepped out onto the water and followed.
Harrach saw them coming across the water.
“No …” he breathed. It had to be an undead army. He’d heard the Hag sometimes controlled creatures from the Shadow World, but he’d never believed he would encounter them here. The encampment in the village must have attracted the Hag’s attention.
“Back!” he whispered to Uwe. “Rally the others. Tell them to ready their weapons outside the house.”
“But the captain—”
“Do it!”
“Sir!” Uwe ran.