We continued toward the pillar of smoke on the horizon, and soon, the woods began to thin out. They gave way first to meadows dotted with fewer and fewer clumps of trees, then cultivated fields as we approached the village. As we passed one of the fields, I noticed a pig carcass suspended by a tree.
There was only one explanation. It was a trap.
But what kind of creature did such a massive carcass hope to ensnare?
Chapter Four
I hopped off Fang and yelled out to Grast to stop the wagon.
“Why are we stopping?” Elyse asked from beside the driver.
“Enemies?” Rami stretched leisurely before unsheathing a sai.
“That.” I pointed at the suspended pig carcass. “I’m curious about exactly what it’s meant to catch.”
Grast squinted as he peered at the carcass, then immediately looked up at the sky. He furrowed his brow and muttered, “Harpies, bloody harpies…”
“Harpies?” Elyse asked.
“That’s a bloody harpy trap, it is!” Grast said.
“What’s a harpy?” Rami asked.
“A bitch from hell with wings,” I answered, “and an appetite for human flesh. Did I mention the fangs and talons? Yeah, they have fangs and talons.”
“Magical powers too,” Grast added grimly. “They can hypnotize their prey, paralyze a man, then carry him off to their mountain nests, where they eat him alive. Their victims can feel everything, too, but can’t do a thing about it, being paralyzed and all.”
“They sound nasty,” Elyse said as she drew her flanged mace.
“Right you are, girlie,” Grast said. “There was a plague of ‘em in Sturn a few decades ago, when I was a young man. They had to bring in all sorts of warriors, hunters, and alchemists to get rid of ‘em. Everyone said the harpies had been wiped out.”
“If you’re right about that being a harpy trap,” I said, “then they must be back.”
Grast scowled at the carcass. “We shouldn’t linger around here in the open country, where we’re vulnerable, Soultaker. We should get back to where there’s tree cover.”
“In a minute,” I said.
I dismounted from Fang and started walking over to the trap as Cranton stumbled out of the front of the wagon, rubbing his squinty eyes and yawning.
“Damn, where are we?” he croaked. “Did I miss anything? I had a strange dream about fighting.”
“You only missed my first real battle as a deity,” I said as I approached the trap. “And the consecration of the first cairn dedicated to the new God of Death. You know, minor stuff.”
“Whoa! A battle! I bet you guys kicked ass.”
“You could say that.”
Cranton only then noticed that my forces had been augmented by the addition of a great number of skeletal cavalrymen and extra skeletal warriors on foot.
“Ooh, neat! Skeletons on horses, man! I like, I like. This calls for a celebratory toke, and—”
“No, Cranton,” I said firmly. “You said no more greenfoil, and unless you want an ass-kicking courtesy of yours truly, you’re going to stick by that promise. I don’t need any foilheads making messes that I have to clean up. Remember what happened in Xayon’s crypt?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, man,” he said sheepishly.
We stepped up to the trap, which consisted of the top half of a pig carcass attached to a steel frame.
“Don’t touch a damn thing,” I ordered Cranton before I inspected the trap closer.
Hidden in the grass beneath the pig carcass was a mechanism that would shoot a spear from the ground and skewer whatever creature pulled the pig carcass. I doubted the trap had much of a success rate.
Cranton knelt down next to me. “Hey, what’s this stuff?”
“What did I say?” I asked.
“There’s something on the spearhead,” he said without touching it.
Now that he mentioned it, I could see a green substance coating the tip.
“Do you recognize it?” I asked him.
“Not without giving it a whiff.”
“Go on, then,” I said, a little reluctant.
Craton rubbed his finger on the spearhead. When it came away, his fingertips were green, covered with the same substance that had been smeared onto the trap. He raised his fingertips to his nostrils and gave them a sniff. A broad grin immediately spread across his face.
“Mm, that’s some ripe-smelling herb! I feel like this would go down swell in my pipe.”
I had an idea of what the herbs might be for. I’d seen similar coatings on traps designed to ensnare leprechauns. The substance would render their magic useless, so they couldn’t use their teleportation abilities to escape to their enemies.
I needed to test my theory, and I wasn’t about to test it on myself. No, I had another person in mind.
“Isu, come over here,” I said before I turned to Cranton. “Get some more of that on your fingers. Then, when Isu comes over, wipe it on her hands.”
“What?” he asked, looking quite terrified. “No can do, man. That crazy bitch will rip my head off.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your head stays attached to your neck.”
Isu strutted over, none too pleased that I’d called her here.
“What?” she asked coldly.
“Uh, can I, um, shake your hand?” Cranton asked her.
“Why?” She stared at him with suspicion. “Why would I let a foul creature like you touch me?”
Without bothering to answer, Cranton simply lunged for her hand and gave it two quick pumps. Isu yanked her hand out of his and recoiled with disgust. Before she could wallop him, Cranton scampered away.
“Thanks, bye!” he blurted as he ran.
“What in all the hells was that foolish twit trying to do?” Isu snapped as she wiped her hands on her clothes.
“Never mind. Listen, I need you to use your acid mist to melt the mechanism on this trap.”
“Why?”
“To disarm it,” I said, as though the answer was plain. I pointed at the trap. “Here,
