Camilla nodded and picked up the pace. She spotted a figure ahead, crouched a few yards off the path, slight, probably a woman. A small form was lying on the snow in front of her, and she was sobbing over it. The screams continued farther along the trail.
The knight commander motioned Willum and two men to investigate the woman, then she and the others raced on, their breath puffing away from their faces like chimneys. Camilla saw more figures in the distance as she neared the village. There was a wagon turned on its side; people had gathered around it. Someone was screaming.
She looked frantically to the right and left, trying to spot any renegade Que-Nal warriors who might have been responsible. Seeing no sign of any, she pushed herself and her men toward the wagon.
Dozens of yards behind her, Willum plodded through the snow toward the woman. He could make out her cries now. "My baby. My darling baby!"
"Let us help you!" he hollered to her as he nearly stumbled in the thick drift. Unlike the woman, he was too heavy to move about on top of the snow. He sank through it with each step. Two knights followed in the path he was blazing. "There are healers at the settlement. We'll take your baby there."
"My baby. She's dead," the woman sobbed. "Poor baby."
A moment more and Willum was at her side, reaching out to the small shape lying on the snow. Then a moment more and he was gasping, recoiling in terror, and bumping back into his men who were just catching up.
"My baby." The woman pulled back her dark cloak, the moonlight revealing a face more bone than flesh. Hollow eye sockets looked out at the knights, and her jaw dropped open. "My baby."
The small form at her feet stirred, and Willum struggled to speak, but his throat had gone instantly dry.
The creature sluggishly stood. It was a child, a Que-Nal, with beads and feathers in its matted hair. Not so long dead, there was more flesh on the small bones, but now the flesh that remained was swollen around the throat, revealing that some terrible disease had claimed her.
"My baby," the dead woman cackled as she struggled to her feet. The cloak fell away from her. In the moonlight, the bones showed through her rotting flesh, glistening like the snow.
"It's a trap!" Willum yelled as loudly as he could, finally finding his voice. He stepped forward and swung at the adult creature, slicing through an arm and sending it flying away. "Warn Camilla!" He barked to the knights behind him. "Go!"
Despite the order, only one of the knights trudged hurriedly away. The other came up to Willum's shoulder, drawing his sword and pointing it at the smaller corpse. "What manner of creatures are these, sir?"
Willum shook his head. He was humming nervously in his throat and weaving his sword in front of him. The large corpse advanced on him, cackling "My baby" and clacking her bony jaws. She reached out for the lieutenant just as he swept the blade to the right, and her clawed hand darted to scratch at his mail. A finger broke from the impact with the metal, and her hollow eyes stared at it hanging limply on her hand.
"They can't hurt us!" Willum said, his voice a shout, though the knight was only inches away. "They can't get through our armor. I'll be all right. Go warn Camilla." The knight turned reluctantly. "No!" Willum shouted. "Get back to the settlement. I think these things were meant to draw us away!"
The Solamnic lieutenant turned his attention back to the corpses. The smaller staggered forward, wrapping her arms around Willum's waist. The knight ignored her for the moment, concentrating on the larger foe.
Jaws clacking, cackling, the larger female corpse shuffled forward atop the snow, too light to sink beneath the drift. She lashed out at Willum's face, but the knight turned, and the bony fingers raked only air. At the same time, he brought his sword up through her rib cage, what would be a mortal blow to any living creature. She only cackled louder.
He pulled his sword free as she threw herself at him, arms wrapping around his sword arm and shaking hard. The corpse was strong and persistent, eventually forcing the knight to lose his grip on the pommel. The blade fell into the snow and disappeared.
"My baby!" she wailed as she brought her jaws toward his unarmored hand.
Willum clamped his teeth closed, the nervous humming in his throat louder. He brought his free hand up to her head and tangled his fingers in her hair. He groaned when he heard the fastening break on his leg plate and risked a glance down. The small corpse had sawed through the leather with her teeth, and her claws were reaching to his leg.
"No!" he hollered as he tugged hard on the adult corpse's hair. Muscles bunched as he yanked, and he was rewarded with a sharp crack. He held the dismembered head in his hand for a moment before he hurled it aside, taking a deep breath before dealing with the smaller one.
The large corpse continued to fight and would not let go of his sword arm. Although it was muffled by the drift he tossed the head into, he heard it continue to cackle.
"By the breath of Kiri-Jolith, what manner of creature are you?"
The dead girl's fingers clawed at Willum's leggings, finding the flesh beneath. The knight didn't cry out despite the pain, only doubled his efforts against the larger corpse. With his free hand, he began tearing it apart, bone by bone, and crushing the brittle ribs with his fist. At last the corpse released his sword arm, and Willum finished shredding the thing, all the while enduring the pain in his leg.
He turned his attention to the child.
Her face had been well preserved by the cold. Only a bit of her cheek was missing. Her eyes stared vacantly at him, and he prayed silently to the memory of Kiri-Jolith as he reached down and wrenched her head off. He fought with her for a few moments more, gritting his teeth as her small hands continued to tear into his leg. Not so long dead as the other, her flesh and muscles held her together more firmly, though in the end, Willum managed.
Gasping for breath, he dropped to his knees, effectively sinking to his waist in the snow. He fumbled around for his leg plate and quickly found it, then discarded it when he saw the strap was so badly mangled he couldn't reattach it. "Gods," he whispered, then dug through the snow for his sword, humming as he searched. The snow was disturbed by the fight, and several times his fingers closed about a bone from the larger corpse. "My sword," he muttered. "It's got to be around here somewhere." He persisted, refusing to be weaponless.
"Creatures of Chaos," he cursed when at last his icycold fingers closed on the pommel. "Got to find Camilla and…"
And die.
A pool of blackness slithered across the snow, looking like oil and moving quickly. It approached Willum as the knight got to his feet and started backing away. The blackness rose, forming legs and arms, spiderweb-fine hair, and eyes that glowed white like stars, then red like hot coals.
Camilla and her knights closed on the overturned wagon. She drew her sword and motioned for her men to spread out and to watch the snow for any hidden foes.
"We'll help you!" she cried as she rushed toward a man leaning on a wagon wheel. "We'll…" She stopped in her tracks. Closer now, she could make out the grisly details. The man was the village leader whom she'd met when she was with Gair, and he was dead.
"All of them are dead, Commander!" A young knight was turning over the other bodies. There were eight in all. Two families, she recalled from her previous visit. "They're clawed up pretty bad, like some big rabid animal got them. Maybe a bear. No wonder they were screaming."
Camilla's gaze dropped to the snow. There was a good deal of blood on the wagon and tinting the snow. "Tracks!" she snapped. "Do you see any animal tracks?"
The knights started searching, around the wagon and farther out. She gestured to four of them to follow her into the village. In the distance, she could see lights burning in some of the windows.