If they didn’t already.
Theodenes and Gredchen walked the quiet, early-morning streets of Willik, wondering where all the people had gone.
Willik was supposed to be a fairly prosperous town, founded by a small cabal of spice merchants who felt that its central location would help them make a fortune selling spices all around Ansalon. That was in the first century after the Cataclysm, when the world was in disarray. Nordmaar had risen from the ocean floor, transforming itself from a small archipelago of islands to a single region of tropical jungle, grasslands, and swamp. It was the ideal sort of climate for spices, and the natives were more than happy to help the merchants with their business.
With the invasion of the dragonarmies, Willik and other merchant-driven settlements in the region experienced a sharp decline, as might be expected. However, the canny highlords and highmasters found a way to make use of the already-established trade routes. Red Highlord Phair Caron made sure her officers, including Rivven Cairn kept the steel and goods flowing in and out of Nordmaar, Kern, and the other territories she conquered. Even after Phair Caron’s death in Silvanesti, her orders were upheld, and under Rivven Cairn the spice business had flourished.
It was, therefore, a surprise to Theo and Gredchen that Willik seemed barely occupied. They saw one or two people, peering out of windows; there was no shortage of houses or shop fronts or trade buildings. The merchants’ hall was standing where it was most appropriate, in the center of the town, and tools and belongings were strewn about. But it was as if the residents themselves had simply vanished, without taking anything with them, and leaving behind only a handful of citizens to maintain an illusion of daily life.
“This doesn’t seem right,” Gredchen said in a low voice. “I was told there were many ogres here.”
“I see ogre-sized implements,” Theodenes said. “These houses along this row here have even been renovated in the past few months to incorporate individuals of a larger size.”
“So there were ogres here recently. And where there are ogres, there are slaves, and occasionally goblins and hobgoblins. I don’t see any. Maybe we should ask one of those people down there.”
In front of the spice merchants’ hall was a low area, probably originally meant as a gathering place with built-in seating. About a dozen humans, male and female, sat watching the large brick building expectantly. There was no sign of life within the hall, but the people seemed content to just wait patiently as Theo and Gredchen approached. All along one side of the area, mounds of fresh dirt were piled up. What the dirt was doing there or where it had come from was unclear.
Gredchen tapped one of the nearest people on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”
The woman turned around slowly, lifting her head toward Gredchen. Gredchen gasped and took a step back. The woman’s eyes were black-no white or colored iris, just empty black orbs. Others nearby seemed to notice the two outsiders as they also turned to look. All had the same black stare.
“By the gods, look at them,” Gredchen said, moving a little closer to Theo. The gnome had his polearm at the ready, currently configured as an axe at the end with a vicious-looking barb behind it. He boldly flourished the weapon before him.
“Fascinating,” said Theo. “Some kind of enchantment, perhaps. No doubt the work of the ogre shaman.”
Neither of them were very experienced with the supernatural, not even Theo, who had let that side of his broad underpinning of scholarly research subside in his lifelong pursuit of weaponsmithing. As they watched, the woman whom Gredchen had touched rose from her bench and stood to face the new arrivals.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Gredchen whispered to Theo. “Are they ogre slaves? Are they dangerous?”
As if in answer, the closest woman’s face twisted into a hideous, snarling mask. She no longer looked human. The other townsfolk curled their fingers into clawlike shapes, hunched themselves over, and leaped up onto the benches. As Gredchen and Theo backed away, the first woman opened her mouth, and her tongue extended out, long and barbed and monstrous.
“It would seem they are very dangerous indeed!” said Theo, pulling the polearm back for a swing. “In fact, I would wager that they intend our immediate harm.”
The woman-creature sprang, propelled by strength that her slight frame gave no impression of having, hissing like an angry snake. Her fingernails were chipped and broken but long, and once Gredchen had a better look at them, she saw that dirt, or worse, was heavily crusted underneath them. The other black-eyed strangers leaped through the air and landed close by Theo and Gredchen, bent over, some on all fours.
Theo let the closest one have it. He took a step forward to give himself additional leverage and swung the axe head of his polearm straight at the torso of the fiend. It crouched low, barely evading the swing, then jumped right for Theo. The gnome was able to bring the polearm around and up just in time to knock the creature to one side. He let out a grunt and prepared to defend himself against another, a female, edging forward.
Gredchen, unarmed but for her satchel, looked about for something handy to wield as a weapon. She spied a long-handled shovel thrust into the closest pile of dirt, about ten feet away. Breaking from Theo, she made a dash for the shovel as two barb-tongued men scampered toward her on all fours. She reached the shovel, grasped the handle with both hands, and used her forward momentum to pull it out of the dirt and leap over the pile at the same time.
The two barb-tongued men followed her over the dirt mound, but she was waiting for them. The first one she cracked across the side of the head with the flat blade of the shovel. It tumbled away, leaving the second one to hiss wickedly at Gredchen and her makeshift but effective weapon.
Theo was trying to strike at the female creature, which leaped from side to side, successfully keeping out of his way. He finally caught her thigh with the hook on the axe head, snagging the point in her dress and knocking her flat to the packed earth. With a couple of twists and a press of a button, the barbed hook extended out a foot, with the axe head collapsing into the shaft of the weapon. Theo effectively held a scythe and was able to pin his opponent down quite handily.
As more creatures closed in, however, Theo backed away until he stood next to Gredchen, who was busy fending off her own handful of foes. They stood back-to-back on Willik’s main street, knocking back the foul and ravenous former residents of the town and occasionally severing a limb or two. Theo even lopped the head off one of them, but its body continued to claw its way in his direction as the head lay on the ground, tongue whipping in and out of its toothy mouth.
“I wager these people have been waiting for visitors,” called Theo above the din of hissing and rasping. “Indeed, I’d guess that the ogre shaman left them here just for us.”
“I can’t have Skerish take the credit,” declared a woman’s voice, resonant and ringing clear across the main square. Looking up, Theo and Gredchen saw a woman in red and black dragonarmor, no helmet, standing astride the upper-level balcony of the spice merchants’ hall. Her hair was thick and blonde, falling just below her pointed ears in waves, and her features were ruddy and tight, like somebody whose favorite emotion was anger. “He was going to have the ghouls buried, but I decided to make use of them.”
Gredchen paled. “That’s Highmaster Rivven Cairn,” she hissed to Theo, just before driving her shovel into the neck of an attacking ghoul. “She’s a mage. She’s used magic to bind these creatures to her!”
Rivven floated from the balcony, borne by unseen forces and drifting over the top of the hissing, clawing creatures. “I have to say I wasn’t expecting you specifically, dear Gredchen,” Rivven said. “Nor you, gnome, although I was aware you were caught up in this adventure.”
“I’m surprised you gave me a moment’s thought at all,” replied Gredchen through clenched teeth. “And this is no form of hospitality I’m familiar with.” Another pair of ghouls leaped at her, but Theo’s scythe cut them down.
“I’m looking for somebody your employer paid to work for him, Gredchen,” Rivven said, her black cloak fluttering in the morning breeze that carried the stench of rot to the gnome and the baron’s aide. Many things had died in Willik. “If you’re here, then you must have come with him-I should have guessed as much. And Theodenes is apparently the new mercenary boss in Pentar. So that explains why he is here too.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” yelled Gredchen. She noted that Theo had kept his mouth shut the entire time. “We’re just passing through these parts, taking a little sightseeing trip, my boyfriend Theo and I.”
Theo winced but still bit his tongue.
