Val snapped awake to a woman''s scream.
His hand reached for his sword before his mind fully surfaced from sleep.
"Form up!" Lysa''s voice, not screaming but commanding.
Val blinked away confusion, his feverish mind struggling to process. His side ached from the cold ground beneath him.
Another shout cut through the darkness, followed by the unmistakable sounds of combat; steel meeting flesh, grunts of exertion, the wet thud of bodies hitting earth. Val staggered to his feet, ignoring the fire that lanced through his side.
He pulled his sword from its sheath and turned to survey the area. Silver moonlight cast the clearing in a ghostly relief, transforming the rangers into dark silhouettes against the pale ground. Shadows clashed with shadows. Someone cried out in pain to his left.
Movement registered in his peripheral vision. Pure instinct sent Val pivoting sideways. Claws raked the air where his throat had been a heartbeat before. A ghoul, all rotted flesh and milky eyes, overextended with its lunge and stumbled past him.
Val didn''t hesitate. His blade whistled through the air, connecting with the creature''s neck. The steel bit deep, severing spine and putrid muscle. The head toppled, mouth still working soundlessly as it hit the dirt. The body staggered another step before Val drove his sword through its back, pinning it to the ground.
A ghoul. The realization crystallized slowly through his fever-hazed thoughts. The camp is under attack.
"Val! On your right!" Aric''s voice.
He whirled, blade coming up in time to catch another ghoul mid-lunge. This one wore the tattered remains of a hunter''s leathers, its body fresher than the first. The blade caught it across the chest, opening a gash that leaked black ichor. The blow should have dropped a living opponent, but the ghoul pressed forward, unfazed by what should have been a mortal wound.
Val sidestepped, using the ghoul''s momentum against it. As it stumbled past, he brought his sword down in a two-handed strike that severed its spine at the base of the neck. The creature collapsed, its legs suddenly useless, but continued to drag itself forward with desperate claws. Val finished it with a thrust through the base of its skull, the blade puncturing whatever remained of its brain.
The fog of sleep had fully cleared now, battle focus sharpening his senses despite the fever. Val took stock of the situation in quick glances as he pulled his sword free. The rangers had formed a defensive circle, their backs to each other as they faced outward against the attackers. Jorin stood on the far side of the clearing, rallying the rangers by moonlight, his blade rising and falling with practiced efficiency.
"Val!" Elara''s voice called from the circle.
He moved towards them, cutting down a smaller ghoul, once a child, his mind registered with disgust as he fought his way toward the defensive circle. The wound in his side screamed with each movement, but battle focus pushed the pain to the periphery of his awareness.
Val slid into position between Elara and Kaelen, completing the circle''s arc. The big ranger acknowledged him with a grunt as he cleaved through a ghoul with his massive axe.
"What happened?" Val asked, parrying a slash from a ghoul that had once been a woman, her face half-rotted away to reveal yellowed teeth in a permanent grin.
"Ambush," Kaelen replied, his axe rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern of destruction. "No warning. Silent approach. They were on us before Lian could raise the alarm."
Val ducked under a ghoul''s wild swing and countered with a thrust that took it through the eye socket. The creature collapsed instantly, whatever necrotic energy animated it dispelled by the destruction of its brain.
"How many?" Val asked, already counting at least a dozen attackers from his position.
"Too many," Elara replied grimly, her blade flashing in the moonlight as she defended her section of the circle. Despite her specialty as a healer, she moved with the efficiency of a trained ranger, each strike economical and precise.
The battle continued for what felt like hours but was likely only minutes. The ghouls attacked with mindless ferocity, hurling themselves at the defensive circle without concern for their own preservation. Some were clearly once humans; hunters, farmers, travelers who had met their end in the forest. Others had been animals, all turned recently based on the state of decomposition. Val recognized the twisted forms smaller creatures like foxes and rabbits, all animated by the same dark energy that drove their human counterparts.
Gradually, the tide turned. The rangers, despite their fatigue and injuries, were trained warriors fighting with discipline against an enemy that knew only blind aggression. One by one, the ghouls fell to coordinated strikes, their bodies permanently stilled by destruction of brain or spine.
When the last ghoul fell to Jorin''s blade, an eerie silence descended on the clearing. The rangers maintained their defensive circle, weapons at the ready, scanning the surrounding forest for further threats.
"Report," Jorin called, his voice steady despite the exertion of battle.
"Two wounded," Lysa responded from her position. "Lian took a slash across the back. Rhea''s got a bite on her forearm."
"Anyone else?" the captain asked, his gaze sweeping the circle.
A chorus of negatives followed. Val remained silent, not counting his infected wound as a new injury. It burned fiercer now, aggravated by the sudden exertion, but he could still fight if needed.
"Secure the perimeter," Jorin ordered. "Check the bodies. Make sure they''re down for good."
The rangers broke formation, moving in pairs to examine the fallen ghouls and ensure they wouldn''t rise again. Val paired with Kaelen, methodically checking each corpse they encountered. The big ranger''s axe came down with grim finality on any that showed even the slightest sign of continued animation.
"Thirteen more," Kaelen counted as they finished their grim task. "Plus half a dozen beasts."
"Too many," Val murmured, echoing Elara''s earlier assessment. "I''ve never seen a pack this size without a leader. Not coordinated like this."
A knot formed in Val''s stomach as he surveyed the carnage. Something about this attack felt wrong. Ghouls were dangerous in groups, but they rarely coordinated their attacks with such precision. This had been a deliberate, organized assault, almost tactical in its execution.
Jorin seemed to share his concern. The captain called the squad leaders together once the perimeter was secured, his expression grave in the silver moonlight.
"Thoughts?" he asked without preamble.
"This wasn''t random," Lysa said immediately. "They approached from downwind, silent until they were practically on top of us. Ghouls don''t hunt like that."
"Not without direction," Kaelen agreed, resting his massive axe against his shoulder. "Someone or something was controlling them."
"Another wight?" Val suggested.
Jorin frowned, scanning the treeline. "Possibly. But where is it? Wights typically lead from the front, not the rear."
"Unless it''s learning," Val said quietly. "Adapting after seeing what happened to the last one."
The implications hung heavy in the air. Wights retained some intelligence from their former lives, but strategic adaptation suggested an unsettling level of self-awareness.
"Or there''s something else out there," Lysa added, voicing the thought none of them wanted to consider. "Something smarter. Controlling them from a distance."
"A necromancer," Kaelen growled, spitting the word like a curse.
Jorin held up a hand, stemming the speculation. "Whatever''s controlling them, we''re in no condition to hunt it down. Not with wounded rangers and limited supplies."
The captain''s gaze swept over the clearing, taking in the rangers gathering the ghoul corpses into a pile for burning. His decision, when it came, was swift and decisive.
"We make for Willow Creek. It''s the nearest settlement with walls, about three miles south of our position. We alert the village, rouse the guard, and send word to Oakspire from there."
None of them argued. The logic was sound. Willow Creek''s wooden palisade wasn''t particularly formidable, but it would provide more protection than the open forest, especially for a company as battered as theirs.
"How do we handle the bodies?" Kaelen asked, nodding toward the pile of ghoul corpses.
"Leave them," Jorin replied without hesitation. "We are too exposed out here."
Lian''s wound looked worse than it was, a long but shallow slash across his upper back that had bled freely but didn''t appear to have damaged anything vital. Rhea''s bite was more concerning, the flesh around the punctures already swollen and discolored.
"Ghoul bites are filthy," Elara muttered as she cleaned the wound with water from her skin. "The infection will set in fast if we don''t treat it properly."
The rangers moved with practiced efficiency despite their fatigue, breaking down their temporary camp and preparing for immediate departure. Val helped where he could, though each movement sent fresh waves of pain through his infected wound.
Aric appeared at his side as Val struggled to secure his pack. "Here, let me," the young ranger offered, taking the straps from Val''s hands.
"Thanks," Val murmured, not bothering to hide his gratitude. Pride had no place when it compromised the company''s efficiency.
Aric worked quickly, securing the pack with deft fingers. "You don''t look well," he observed quietly.
"Just tired," Val replied automatically, though they both knew it was more than that.
"I''ll stay close," Aric said, a statement rather than an offer. "In case you need anything."
Val nodded, accepting the help without further protest. The young ranger''s presence would be welcome, especially if his condition worsened during their journey.
By the time the fire had reduced the ghoul corpses to ash, the rangers were ready to move out. Jorin gathered them for a final briefing, his expression grim in the flickering light of the dying flames.
"Three miles to Willow Creek," he said, pointing southward. "We move fast but quiet. Standard formation, tight spacing. No one falls behind."
The captain''s gaze swept over the assembled rangers, lingering briefly on the wounded before continuing. "Whatever sent these ghouls against us might still be out there, watching. Stay alert."
With a final nod, Jorin gave the order to move out. The rangers formed up in their traveling formation, with Lysa on point despite her fatigue and Kaelen taking the rear guard position. Val found himself in the middle of the column with Elara and the other wounded rangers, a placement that chafed at his pride but made tactical sense.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
They left the clearing behind, moving into the forest with only the moonlight to guide them. The silver light filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns across the forest floor that transformed familiar terrain into an alien landscape of light and shadow. Every tree seemed to conceal potential threats, every shadow a possible ambush.
The forest was eerily silent around them. No night birds called, no small creatures rustled in the underbrush. It was as if the entire ecosystem had gone into hiding, sensing the wrongness that pervaded their territory.
Val kept Aric close, occasionally murmuring quiet instructions as they navigated the difficult terrain. "Watch your footing here," Val whispered as they approached a section of forest where exposed roots created natural tripping hazards. "Keep your eyes up, scan the shadows. Don''t focus too long on any one spot."
Aric nodded, absorbing the guidance with the eager attention of a ranger still learning his craft. Despite his relative inexperience, he moved with growing confidence through the darkened forest, his steps becoming more sure with each passing mile.
The wound in Val''s side throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat, a burning pulse that grew more insistent with each step. The infection was spreading, he could feel it—a hot line of fire that radiated outward from the original injury. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool night air, and his vision occasionally blurred at the edges, a worrying sign of advancing fever.
They had covered perhaps a mile when the first attack came. A twisted rabbit, its once-fluffy form now a grotesque parody of life, lunged from the underbrush at Lysa''s ankles. The veteran ranger reacted instantly, her blade flashing in the moonlight to sever the creature''s head in a single stroke.
Before the rangers could fully process this new threat, more small animals emerged from the surrounding forest. Squirrels with milky eyes and bared teeth. Foxes moving with the jerky, unnatural gait of the recently dead. Even birds, their flight patterns erratic and aggressive where they should have been graceful.
"Defensive formation!" Jorin called, his voice pitched low but carrying to every ranger.
They responded instantly, forming a tight circle with the wounded protected at its center. Val found himself on the outer ring despite his condition, his experience too valuable to waste in the protected position typically reserved for non-combatants.
The undead animals attacked with mindless ferocity, hurling themselves at the rangers with no concern for self-preservation. Individually, they posed little threat—even the largest, a fox with half its face torn away, was easily dispatched by a single sword stroke. But their numbers and unpredictable movements made them dangerous, especially to a company already fatigued from previous battles.
Val dispatched three squirrels and a crow with economical strikes, conserving his energy as best he could. Beside him, Aric fought with growing confidence, his blade finding its mark more often than not despite his relative inexperience.
The attack lasted less than a minute before the last of the undead animals fell to ranger blades. When the forest fell silent once more, Jorin gave the order to resume their march, maintaining the defensive formation as they continued southward.
"What was that about?" Aric asked quietly as they moved through the underbrush, careful to keep his voice low enough that only Val could hear.
"Scouts," Val replied, the realization crystallizing as he spoke. "They''re tracking us."
"The animals?"
"Whatever''s controlling them," Val clarified. "The ghouls, the animals, they''re eyes and ears for something else. Something intelligent enough to coordinate attacks and adapt to our movements."
They continued their journey in tense silence, every ranger alert for the slightest sound or movement that might herald another attack. The forest remained unnaturally quiet around them, amplifying the soft sounds of their passage; boots against earth, the occasional snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves as they pushed through underbrush.
The second attack came almost exactly like the first, but with larger prey. A deer, its once-graceful form now twisted by death, charged from the shadows directly at the center of their formation. Behind it came two wolves, their fur matted with dried blood and earth.
The rangers reacted instantly, meeting the charge with disciplined precision. Kaelen''s massive axe caught the deer mid-leap, cleaving through its neck in a spray of black. Lysa and Jorin took the wolves, their blades finding vulnerable points with practiced ease.
But unlike the smaller animals, these larger undead didn''t fall so easily. The deer''s body continued thrashing even after its head had been severed, its hooves lashing out with force. One of the wolves managed to sink its teeth into Rhea''s already-injured arm before Jorin''s blade separated its spine.
The struggle was brief but costly. In addition to Rhea''s aggravated wound, Lian took a glancing blow from the deer''s hooves that opened a cut across his cheek. The rangers dispatched their attackers with grim efficiency, but the message was clear—the enemy was escalating, sending larger and more dangerous undead against them.
"Keep moving," Jorin ordered once the immediate threat was eliminated. "Willow Creek''s less than a mile ahead. We push through, no matter what."
They resumed their march, moving faster now despite the increased risk of noise. The tactical situation had shifted. Stealth was less important than speed when the enemy already knew their location and was actively hunting them.
Val found the accelerated pace increasingly difficult to maintain. The infection burned through his system like liquid fire, each step sending fresh waves of pain through his body. His vision narrowed to a tunnel, focused solely on the ground immediately ahead and the back of the ranger in front of him. Everything else, the surrounding forest, the sound of his own labored breathing, even the persistent throb of his wound, faded to background awareness.
Aric noticed his struggle, moving closer to offer silent support. The young ranger didn''t speak, but his presence at Val''s side was steadying, a physical reminder of responsibility that helped Val push through the growing weakness in his limbs.
"Almost there," Aric murmured after what felt like hours but was likely only minutes. "I can see lights ahead."
Val lifted his gaze with effort, forcing his vision to focus on the distance. Sure enough, faint pinpricks of light marked the location of Willow Creek''s palisade wall. Torches or lanterns, likely held by sentries on night watch. The sight gave him a second wind, energy flowing back into his limbs despite the fever''s persistent drain.
The third attack came just as the village wall became clearly visible through the trees. No animals this time, but ghouls, a half-dozen of them, emerging from the forest to flank the ranger column. Unlike the previous attackers, these moved with a semblance of coordination, attempting to separate the rangers rather than simply charging headlong into their formation.
"Hold together!" Jorin shouted, recognizing the tactic. "Don''t let them isolate anyone!"
The rangers tightened their formation, forming a moving phalanx that continued toward the village even as they engaged the ghouls. Val found himself on the left flank, defending against a ghoul that had once been a young woman. Her clothes, though tattered and filthy, marked her as a villager rather than a traveler—perhaps from Willow Creek itself.
The realization sent a chill through Val that had nothing to do with his fever. If the undead were turning villagers, the situation was worse than they had imagined. The infection wasn''t just spilling over the border; it was actively spreading within the valley itself.
He dispatched the ghoul with a clean thrust through the eye socket, then pivoted to assist Aric with another that had nearly flanked the young ranger. Together, they drove it back, creating space for Kaelen to finish it with a devastating axe blow.
The skirmish lasted less than a minute, ending with all six ghouls permanently disabled and no new ranger injuries. But the proximity to the village wall was concerning. These undead had been lying in wait, positioned specifically to intercept anyone approaching Willow Creek from the north.
"They''re targeting the village," Val said to Jorin as they resumed their march toward the palisade gate. "Setting up ambush points along the approach routes."
The captain nodded grimly, reaching the same conclusion. "Trying to isolate it. Cut off communication and supply lines."
"Tactically sound," Lysa observed from Val''s other side. "If I wanted to eliminate a settlement, that''s how I''d start."
The implications hung heavy. Willow Creek''s wooden palisade loomed over them, a fifteen-foot barrier of sharpened logs that encircled the entire settlement. In daylight, it would have appeared primitive and somewhat ramshackle. A frontier defense built by farmers rather than soldiers. But in the silver moonlight, with the threat of undead at their backs, it seemed a welcome fortress.
"Hail the gate!" Jorin called as they reached the cleared ground before the palisade. "Rangers from Oakspire seeking entry!"
There was a moment of silence, then the sound of movement from the guard platform above the gate. A torch appeared, illuminating the face of a nervous-looking man in the simple leather armor of a village militiaman.
"Identify yourselves!" the guard called, his voice pitched higher than normal with obvious tension.
"Captain Jorin of the Oakspire Rangers," Jorin replied, stepping forward where the torchlight could clearly illuminate his face and the ranger insignia on his cloak. "We have wounded and seek shelter."
The guard hesitated, his gaze moving from Jorin to the battered rangers behind him, then to the darkened forest beyond. "How many?"
"Ten rangers," Jorin answered without hesitation. "No pursuers that we can see, but we''ve encountered undead within half a mile of your walls."
This information prompted hurried consultation between the gate guard and someone else on the platform, their voices too low to make out details. After a tense moment, a second face appeared in the torchlight, old and more weathered.
"Captain Jorin," the second man acknowledged with a nod. "I''m Rolf, captain of the Willow Creek guard. We''ll open the gate, but be quick about it."
At Rolf''s signal, the heavy bar across the gate was lifted with a groan of protest. The wooden doors swung inward just wide enough to admit the rangers, then were quickly secured behind them. Val felt a palpable sense of relief as the bar thumped back into place, though he knew the village''s defenses were modest at best.
Inside the wall, Willow Creek appeared largely as Val remembered from previous visits. A collection of sturdy wooden buildings arranged around a central square, with smaller dwellings radiating outward to the palisade wall. But there were concerning differences. Many windows were boarded up despite the warm season. Makeshift barricades had been erected at some street intersections. And the villagers he could see moved with the wary alertness of those living under constant threat.
"We''ve been expecting someone from Oakspire," Rolf said as he descended from the guard platform to meet them. The guard captain was a stocky man in his fifties, with graying hair and the calloused hands of someone who had worked hard all his life. "Though we expected a larger force."
"We''re just passing through," Jorin explained, stepping forward to meet Rolf. "On a scouting mission that turned complicated. What''s happening here?"
Rolf''s expression darkened. "Nightly raids for the past week. Ghouls mostly, but some... other things. Animals acting wrong. Coming at the walls in ones and twos, testing our defenses."
"Casualties?" Jorin asked, his tone carefully neutral.
"Four dead, twice that wounded," Rolf replied grimly. "Lost two more who went hunting three days ago and never returned. Found one of them the next night trying to climb the wall with a dozen ghouls."
"We sent word to Oakspire three days ago," Rolf continued, leading them toward the village center where a two-story building served as both guard house and village hall. "Asked for reinforcements. No response yet."
"The forest is compromised," Lysa explained, falling into step beside the guard captain. "We encountered multiple undead groups between here and Dead Peak Pass. Your messenger may not have made it through."
Rolf absorbed this with a grim nod, as if it confirmed something he had already suspected. "We''ve got rooms in the guard house for your wounded. Not much, but it''s secure. Thick walls, barred windows. Been housing the village children there at night, but we can make space."
"We appreciate it," Jorin said. "We''ll need to send a fresh message to Oakspire at first light. And compare notes on what we''ve both encountered."
The guard house was indeed sturdy by village standards. A solid structure of stone and timber that could serve as a last redoubt if the outer walls were breached. Inside, the main room had been converted into a communal sleeping area, with pallets arranged in neat rows across the wooden floor. Most were occupied by sleeping children, their faces peaceful despite the tension that pervaded the village.
"We can put your wounded in the side room," Rolf said, leading them past the sleeping children toward a smaller chamber that likely served as an office during normal times. "It''s not much, but it''s private and defensible."
The side room contained a desk pushed against one wall and several cots that looked to have been recently brought in. A small hearth provided both warmth and light, the fire burning low but steady.
"This will do," Jorin said with a nod of thanks. "We won''t impose on your hospitality longer than necessary."
"Not an imposition," Rolf replied quietly. "Truth is, we''re glad for the reinforcement, even temporary. My militia''s good folks, but they''re no rangers. They''re farmers and craftsfolk who take shifts on the wall."
The rangers settled into the offered space, the wounded taking the cots while those in better condition arranged themselves on the floor using bedrolls and cloaks. Elara immediately set to work checking injuries, her movements efficient despite her own obvious fatigue.
When she reached Val, her expression tightened with concern. "Let me see," she said, gesturing for him to remove his tunic.
He complied without argument, too exhausted to maintain pretenses. The wound looked as bad as it felt; an angry red gash surrounded by swollen, discolored flesh. The infection had clearly spread, tendrils of red streaking outward from the original injury.
Elara cleaned the wound as best she could with their limited supplies, then applied a fresh layer of healing paste and a clean bandage. The cool salve provided temporary relief from the burning sensation, but they both knew it was treating symptoms rather than the underlying infection.
"Eat something," she instructed as she finished securing the bandage. "And drink as much water as you can tolerate. Your body needs nutrients to fight the infection."
Rolf had provided a simple meal of bread, cheese, and a hearty stew that spoke of limited ingredients used well. Val forced himself to eat despite his lack of appetite, knowing Elara was right about his body''s needs. The food sat heavy in his stomach, but he managed to keep it down through sheer determination.
As the rangers settled for what remained of the night, Jorin and the squad leaders gathered with Rolf to exchange information and plan their next steps. Val should have been among them as a squad leader, but Jorin had taken one look at his condition and ordered him to rest instead. It was a measure of how bad he felt that Val didn''t even consider arguing.
From his position on one of the cots, Val could hear fragments of the conversation. Rolf describing the pattern of attacks against the village. Jorin sharing what they had encountered near the border. Lysa''s analysis of the undead movements suggesting intelligent direction rather than random aggression.
Val tried to focus on the discussion, to contribute his own observations, but exhaustion and fever conspired against him. The voices faded in and out, words blurring together into meaningless noise as his consciousness wavered on the edge of sleep.
His last clear thought before darkness claimed him was a fragment of ranger lore, taught to every recruit during their first year of training: In the Deadlands, death is merely a transition of service. The truly dead are the lucky ones.
He closed his eyes, surrendering to the pull of exhaustion, surrounded by the quiet breathing of his fellow rangers. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new threats to face. For now, sleep was the only medicine he had.