From his position at the head of their cart, Bronwyn looked around with interest. They were on a paved road that cut its way between shallow hills, ubiquitous in this region of the frontier. On every side, they were surrounded by dense brush, undergrowth, and canopy so overgrown that they merged into almost solid walls of living green stretching twice, thrice his height into the air. He supposed to some it would have been imposing, but he found it quite cosy — the sounds of birds and chirping insects truly made it feel like summer.

  It was a refreshing change from the sparse glades, light forests, and open fields that surrounded much of the area near Deadacre.

  As they rounded a corner, he spotted it in the distance — the Spine. It was just barely visible, dark flecks floating on the horizon like mountain peaks cut off by clouds. Except there was nothing to support them. There was no natural illusion or false trickery. He knew that, however many leagues away they were, closer up they would be floating islands, held aloft by nothing but natural magic.

  It had taken them weeks to travel this far as the land changed around them. The air was wetter, humid, and hot. Even for him, who had travelled across every expanse of the frontier, it was a novelty. Rarely had he had an opportunity to come to the Spines. There were few settlements even this far from them. Before the Phase change, it had been one of the few areas of real danger in the frontier — a high-mana zone where even Silver or stronger beasts could be found.

  He doubted that last bit. Even for a high-mana zone, beasts in the latter half of the second tier were rare, and the Spine was not as large as the Arboreal Sea or other greater wilds.

  A few more bends, and their destination came into view. A massive swathe of the surrounding bush had been cut back and tilled — packed fields stretching for what must have been half a league around a large village, or perhaps a small town. Earnsdale. Their first stop.

  Earthen works had been built up into a mound in a shallow concave between four larger hills that sheltered the settlement — a fortification bolstered by a high defensive wall constructed from the local stone common in these parts. Even though most villages their size would make use of lumber, the surrounding brush lacked oaks and elms. As laborious as quarrying stone must have been, it was far better than using bundled twigs for defences—especially this close to the Spine.

  There were men on the walls. Too many men. Normally, in a village like this, he would have expected a bare smattering: a couple on each gate, with perhaps a few more patrolling the walls to keep watch.

  There were easily dozens, watching every angle like hawks. None of them moved alone — pairs and trios only, each plainly watching the treeline nervously. All of the treeline.

  Why? Earnsdale was still weeks from Strangspine. The last communication they’d heard had put the beast disturbance leagues further into the surrounding bush. Hells, could the problem have already spread so far?

  His suspicion was high. Much like any other remote community that lived near danger, they were a hardy people — hardier even than the average seen across the frontier. The closest comparison he could think of were the communities living near the edge of the Arboreal Sea. No longer villages, he supposed — Dawntown.

  Yet it was exactly that hardy determination that made him surprised at what he noticed next: the fields.

  The fields around Earnsdale were sloppy. That was strange. Given how hard the brush was to beat back, it required constant effort to maintain. A gift from the density of mana in the area. They were normally meticulously picked over, at least from what his research had suggested. Farmers would have had to make use of their skills to maximise every bit of yield to support the village’s population.

  Crops grew tangled and unruly, and weeds of all things dotted the neatly rowed fields. Rather than dozens of farmers, he could count the people on one hand — each of them moving in trios, wary eyes scanning the edge of the brush as they carried spears instead of pitchforks. Another sign pointing to the fact that even this far from the Spine, the locals had met with misfortune in recent times.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Bronwyn nudged Dross, nodding to the fields and the men manning the walls. “How likely do you think it is that this is related to that beast horde, and not just because of the Phase change?”

  “Pretty damn likely, I’d say,” Dross replied after scanning their surroundings with his eagle-like vision. “Them farmers’ve got mean looks. Not one of ’em’s lacking a weapon. Hells, even the guards at the front gate are mean-mugging us. Something’s definitely up.”

  The ranger nodded toward the heavy, barred gate set in the palisade wall closest to them.

  Bronwyn nodded and urged their beast of burden to speed up to a swift trot. Soon, he too saw the guards — dressed in plated leathers, they held pikes in tight grips, watching their approach with plain suspicion and deep frowns.

  “Ho there, travellers. We ask you slow your approach. We haven’t seen your like around these parts before,” one called out, his booming, enhanced voice easily carrying through the fields toward them.

  Bronwyn complied. No reason to antagonise the local security — especially when they were just doing their jobs.

  He and his team looked at each other. Predictably, his friends all turned to stare at him. Gods, he regretted taking on the role of party leader all those years ago.

  “You’re up, pretty boy. You’re the best at it,” Yanira said, grinning as she nudged him with her knee.

  Bronwyn groaned deeply but nodded all the same. As annoying as it was to handle their official conversations, it was better him than Yanira or Dross — both were liable to shove their foot and half their leg in their mouth. Julis would have been better, but the man despised most conversation.

  Jumping from the cart, Bronwyn kept his hands open and visible as he smiled at the guards. “Ho, good guards. We are Delvers from Deadacre investigating the disappearance of beasts.”

  As he approached, he saw the very second his aura washed over them. They froze, faces paling as they looked at each other. A moment later their eyes snapped back to him before flicking to his team. He could practically hear their thoughts as they assessed his gear and likely felt the magic emanating from their artefacts: wariness, danger, respect.

  All familiar reactions — but no less bothersome.

  “Aye, sir,” they stammered. “Aye. They’ve been quite the trouble of late.”

  Bronwyn nodded. That was no surprise, not given what they’d seen. He’d hoped the beasts had just vanished into the Spine, but it sounded like they hadn’t been so lucky.

  “We were hoping to talk to your elders — or perhaps any veteran hunters, really. Anyone who can tell us more about the local situation. We’ve brought some relief supplies as well — alchemical goods and minor artefacts to help you weather any trouble you’ve had.”

  “Oh, thank Ulyur,” the guard on the right said, slumping as he leaned on his pike. The god of the hunt was one of the more common deities worshipped in remote communities.

  “It’s been dire,” the man continued. “The beasts have all vanished, leaving us precious little to hunt other than some fish in the nearby rivers. Worse, those that venture out — sometimes they don’t return. It was bad enough when it was just those brave enough to go on overnight ventures into the bush, but…” The guard trailed off.

  “But it didn’t stay that way,” the other guard said grimly. “We’ve had people picked off at the edges of the fields — even in high noon. Not often, but enough to scare people. We’re struggling to man the fields.”

  Bronwyn’s eyes sharpened. “People have been disappearing?”

  They’d known the villagers had been hit, but to be picking people off, harrying communities — that suggested smaller roaming forces. Something they’d have to avoid if there truly was a controller to the horde.

  Blasted hells. They might already have been detected while travelling here.

  “Oh aye,” the guard said. “Elder Humund can tell you more. But it’s been a devilish thing. Demons, people are saying — possessing the beasts. They’ve been like ghosts. Nobody’s caught more than a flash of fur, a shrill scream, and a few spots of blood left behind. I keep half-expecting to wake in the night and find them in my bedroom.”

  Bronwyn’s mouth pressed into a flat line as he shared a long look with his team. It seemed more and more likely that the Controller was behind the recent difficulties — just as Kaius and his team had suspected. After all, natural beasts didn’t engage in guerrilla warfare.

  “Perhaps you’d best get us to this Elder Humund quickly, so we can start getting to the bottom of this.”

  The guards nodded and hurried to the heavy front gate of the small town. They heaved on a rope, a bell ringing at the top. “Open the gate!” they called. “We’ve got Delvers from Deadacre!”

  It creaked open slowly, revealing a dense packing of short wooden buildings, with a dozen guards staring at them with eyes that were as worried as they were hopeful.

  Bronwyn could only hope that someone in the town would be able to help with their investigation.