Chapter 31

Infected

They awoke the next morning, stretched their stiffened legs in the chill morning air, and looked out across the trees to the western valley that stretched before them. At their back the walls of Krezk stood silent and unmoving, trails of smoke from morning fires the only indication of life behind the curtain of stone. They gathered their belongings and prepared the horses for the travel ahead. At the base of the hill, Pieron turned their mounts east, back to the crossing of the Raven, and the group knew they'd reluctantly be forced to pass by the abandoned lumber yard once again, the pain of that scene still fresh in their minds from the day before. It was in this state of anticipation that they were so easily startled by a lone deer bounding into the road just before the lumber yard, where it stopped and stared motionless in their direction. For a moment it felt important and intentional, like an attempt at communication, and Pieron slowed the wagon to stop a ways from the deer ahead to not startle the creature. It made one hesitant step toward them, before the great crashing form of a mighty black wolf leapt from the brush and sunk it's yellow teeth into the deer's neck, writhing in air to twist the prey into the dirt, rending and ripping in a sudden burst of deep crimson life-blood. Before they could react the deer was dead, and a second wolf emerged to creep snarling toward their horses. Fabian rose to grip the creature in an arcane paralysis but the wolf growled and moved closer. It's companion lifted it's blood soaked head from the kill to begin pacing wide to their left flank, and the rustle of the thicket proceeded a third form, this being not wolf but not man either. Some hybrid of human and beast pushed aside the branches with thick furred claws, stepped forward on two legs, curled human lips over massive canines. Rumors of the ferocity of werewolves that had inspired imaginings of their fearsome appearance collapsed in that moment into a very real threat that surpassed all manner of fell reputation. This was a beast of death, and the trio of lupine made no show of permitting the travelers to pass.

Fabian attempted to halt the encircling wolves but they only snarled, resisting her magics, as the werewolf grinned and sniffed at the air. It spoke in a gravely voice that they'd the smell of the woodsmen on them, and with a cry of vengeance for the slaughter of the mill Fabian charged forth with sword raised. Pieron dismounted and followed, conjuring arcane missiles to send flying towards the nearest wolf as the second leapt and caught her arm in it's jaw. It gnashed at her shoulder and clawed her chest but Fabian ran to meet the werewolf head on, her silver sword laid bare. The creature dropped it's claws to the ground in a disjointed gallop to close the distance alarmingly fast, so Erros lifted his hand and attempted to trap the creature's mind in a crown of madness. With a few tools in hand Dyson configured his construct Cyclone into a battle formation, and as Pieron struggled to fend off the wolves that had encircled her he commanded his creation to loose. The pounding of pistons and hiss out the gaskets preceded an explosive crack as a missile of compressed air shot across the battle-field and hit it's mark with deadly precision. Before the wolf could reorient itself Dyson had silvered maul in hand and was charging to his friend's aid. The werewolf stopped in it's tracks and snarled, whipping about it's head as a crown of iron spikes protruded from it's temples. In a mad rage it lashed about and struck the second wolf before tumbling forward once more. But the moment that Erros' spell had afforded her allowed Fabian to speak a silent word of courage and wreath her sword in hungry red flame. They were then upon each other, the beast wildly swiping Fabian dipped effortlessly beneath the blow and thrust her blade into the creature. A pulse of divine radiance seared the werewolf's hide and she withdrew the now quenched blade to watch her flames spread across the beast's body like a swarm of venomous snakes. It howled in fear and withdrew just as Dyson reached the first wolf and in a single motion planted his foot and shifted all of his kinetic energy into a savage uppercut with his maul, now thrumming and shifting the air with a thunderous elemental infusion. It struck true into the wolf's ribs with the echoing crack of a storm cloud, lifting the beast several feet into the air. The second wolf siddled about the charging dwarf and leapt at Erros to draw blood along his side, but the werewolf shouted for Davanka and Aziane to turn with him and as if breaking from a rage filled trance the two wolves made to quickly retreat. Dyson took a step forward and delivered another massive strike, the whimpering wolf trying as best it could to flee from certain death. As it limped away he yelled for Pieron to kill it, and with the casting of a burning spell she brought the beast down just yards away. The second wolf made it to the trees, and neither it nor it's burning master made any attempt to return.

Dyson and Pieron stood panting and winded as Fabian rushed to the fallen body of the wolf, just feet from the still warm deer. She kneeled over the creature, it's breath weak and shallow, it's ribcage caved in, clearly collapsing one of it's lungs. She placed her hands over the wolf and they began to glow with golden healing energy, but she hesitated and looked to her companions unsure of the right thing to do. Dyson stared at her, his mouth an unmoving line behind his thick mustache, and Pieron lifted her shoulders in a shrug, so she turned back to the wolf and as it shuddered it's last breath, she placed her hands on it's matted and pulled it back from the abyss. Before their eyes the creature shed its skin and transformed into the body of a woman, younger than any of them, covered in dirt, blood, and threadbare clothes. She slowly opened emerald-green eyes, and seeing unfamiliar faces she scrambled to her feet growling. Clutching her side she backed up on all fours as Fabian raised her hands and promised she meant her no harm. She tried to talk to the her, but the moment she stepped away the girl turned and ran. Galloping at first but seeming to shed what remained of her animal nature her gait rose to a human sprint before she disappeared into the trees. Fabian called out to her as she ran and they stood in the quiet of the wood until it was clear they would get no response. With their adrenaline quickly fading, Erros felt a sharp pulse of pain wash over him and he gasped. The others rushed to see as he pulled his bloody tunic from his chest to inspect the bite mark under his arm. His veins around the wound were bloated and purple and seemed to course deeper into his body. The source of the pain was here, but it spread over him quickly and burned beneath his skin. Fabian tried her healing magics, and they seemed successful in sealing the wound, but his fever failed to subside. It didn't take more than a look between the four to know what Erros was experiencing, the lycanthropic curse had taken hold. Together they helped him back into the wagon and began to patch up their wounds. Erros looked longingly at the road behind them, and the great healer they'd heard resides in the Abbey out of sight behind the trees, but they knew they were not yet welcome and worried that returning now could mean Erros's death. The only way was forward, to secure the missing wine and earn passage to the mysterious abbot, so as a group they decided to press on.

They traveled uninterrupted for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, across the Raven and southwest, descending the even grade into the western valley. When they'd traveled directly south for a good distance, they climbed a small rise and saw stretching before them acres of lush and well-tended wine groves. Rows upon rows of leafy vines, laden with crimson grapes, made the most peculiar sight in the chill alpine landscape around them, and off in the distance they saw a large manor house amidst the groves. They made it to the winery, and everything seemed in order, if only a bit still, but as Pieron made to descend, Dyson grabbed the reins and told them to wait. He nodded off to an obscured grove a hundred yards from the road, something that had caught his eye, and sure enough the inorganic glint of metal from a point in the brush fluttered and danced in their eyes. Someone, or something, was trying to get their attention. Erros still weak with fever offered to protect the cart while the rest of them investigated the strange invitation, so weapons drawn the three approached the grove. They stepped through the thick foliage as carefully as they could, emerging in a large clearing hidden well from the road's northern approach. Before them was a tall stone monolith, ancient and overgrown with moss, though the carving of three deep curling lines remained unobscured, swirled about each other like a symbol for the breeze. It reminded them of the monolith they saw from a distance as they crossed the Luna, but about the monolith were several tents, chests, and clothes. It was a small makeshift camp, and out from behind the thick trunks of the adult firs emerged its inhabitants. A middle aged man, a woman, two young children, a younger man, the woman's husband, and an old hunchback. The man stepped forward, his hand raised in a gesture of peace, and warned them to turn back and not approach the winery. The trio lowered their weapons and looked puzzling at his request, to which he explained that the southern forest folk had attacked with an army of subservient plant warriors and were occupying the structure. Suddenly the resemblance became clear: the black hair, dark gray eyes, and hooked noses. A flutter caught their eye, and they looked up to see dozens of ravens perched in the branches above. They had the Martikovs, Urwin's family. And as the man looked them up and down, from armored boot to goggled-brow, spells and weapons at the ready, it seemed the Martikov's had found them. Perhaps you capable three could help us with something, he brokered.