Inside Earnsdale’s fortifications, rustic housing sprawled out in a great tangle. They were sturdy, built with stone foundations — cleanly cut grey blocks that looked strong enough to weather even the greatest of storms. As was common in frontier villages, the houses themselves were made from local materials, a mishmash of wood planed down to planks to construct small family dwellings.

  Despite their limited materials, they clearly were built to a high standard. Even in a place this remote, there would have been no lack of carpenters and builders to ply their class skills and fortify the buildings beyond what would have been possible otherwise.

  Wandering down paved roads, Bronwyn and his team followed their guide—one of the guards who had let them in at the front gate. Places this far out rarely would have seen strangers, let alone Delvers of their strength, so he wasn’t all that surprised when people came flocking to watch them pass.

  He did find it a little odd, however, that half the crowd seemed more interested in the beast of burden dragging their cart than in them themselves.

  He supposed that, given dauntles were native to the far eastern front of Vaastivar, the beast would have been entirely alien to them. But more than that, it came from a long-bred and controlled lineage — its pedigree obvious, its docility and strength plain.

  To people like these, such a beast of burden would have been valuable. Much more so than his finely inscribed armour or his blade.

  There was another facet of the town that caught his eye: ward lights stacked on top of poles lining the streets and dotting corners. It was rare to see them in such abundance outside a true metropolis. Sure, they were simple pieces of artifice and long-lived, but they did need maintenance — and in a place like Earnsdale, they had to have been made local.

  Catching their guide’s eye, he nodded to one of the lamps. “Who made those?” he asked.

  The guard nodded knowingly, a slight, proud smile stretching across his face. “Ah, I’ve heard artifice ain’t so common in other regions. But we used to see a fair few journeymen in these parts near the Spine. Used to be they came to practise — something to do with the higher mana near them floating islands, making it easier to work more complex structures. At least, that’s what Janesh keeps telling me.”

  “Ah,” Bronwyn replied. That did make some sort of sense. Often journeymen tradesmen flocked to where their skills could be most heavily leveraged in an effort to gain as many levels and abilities as they could. From his limited understanding of the runic arts, the higher mana would have played a large part. It would have made it far easier to power enchantments and formations that would otherwise be a tad too inefficient or crude.

  “I assume a few of them have stuck around?”

  “That they have,” the guard replied. “We already had a bit of a problem with beasties, but that got a fair bit worse with the Phase change. A lot of ’em didn’t want to risk it. They’ve started to set down some roots. Happened all over the place. We ourselves got three of ’em. Hells, we’ve got artifice falling out from behind our ears now.”

  As Bronwyn chuckled politely in reply to the guard’s joke, he looked around to watch the people of Earnsdale as they passed. Despite what he was used to, they looked warier than he normally saw in the people of the frontier. With all the travel they’d done, there was a tale he was becoming uncomfortably familiar with — too remote to easily flee to safety, and the town just a little too safe to justify the risk.

  After a few more minutes, they reached the centre of the town, entering into a wide square surrounded by inns and general stores, its centre dominated by a large public fountain. Judging by the people he’d seen filling up buckets, it was one source of clean water for the populace.

  One side of the square was dominated by what had to be the village’s closest equivalent to a manor — one of the few buildings made entirely of stone. It was two storeys high. Bronwyn wouldn’t exactly call it opulent, but it was clear that an extra level of care had been taken in its construction.

  Their guide took them straight to the front door — a tall, sturdy thing made of oak. Imported, no doubt; he hadn’t seen any in the surrounding bush.

  “This be Elder Humund’s place,” the guard said. “You’ll need to leave the cart outside, obviously, but I’ll keep an eye on it for you while you talk with him.”

  Bronwyn gave the man a nod of thanks before he waved to his team to follow him as they ascended the handful of steps that led to the front door.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Do you think this Elder Humund will have anything for us?” Yanira asked, the giantess craning her head to look up at the building.

  “A lead, I hope,” Bronwyn replied.

  They’d had some word, of course, back in Deadacre — villages had gone dark and beasts had been seen in the area — but they hadn’t had specifics. Now they knew that suspiciously orchestrated ambushes were occurring.

  What they really needed was fresh, detailed knowledge—exactly which villages had been hit and when, which ones had been wiped out and which had just been harassed. He needed to know if there was a pattern and, gods’ willing, any details of the swarm itself. If they could get some sort of confirmation that the beasts were coming from the Spine — and more specifically where from within it — it could make their job a whole lot safer.

  They weren’t here to exterminate beasts by the thousands, just to assess the threat so it could be dealt with by an appropriate force.

  After he knocked on the door, another guard opened it—though this one wasn’t dressed in the simple chain and leathers of those at the gate. He was wearing splintered mail, a tabard of grey-blue emblazoned with the sigil of a songbird on its front. A personal defender of the elder, perhaps.

  Standing at six strides tall, the man would have had an intimidating presence to anyone else. Given his lacking presence and aura, the guard’s narrowed eyes didn’t have much of an effect on him.

  Still, the man stayed staunch even when four Silver auras rolled over him. Bronwyn could respect that.

  “State your business,” the man said.

  “Adventurers from Deadacre. We’re here to see Elder Humund about the beast problem.”

  The guard narrowed his eyes at them, but after a heartbeat, he nodded. “I’ll be just a moment,” he said before shutting the door in their faces.

  Dross snorted in amusement behind him, but Bronwyn kept his expression professional.

  A minute later, the door opened again, hinges creaking as the guard waved them inside. “Follow me.”

  They were led quickly to an office, winding through an entry hall and around a corner. Much like he’d seen from the exterior, the building was of high quality, with carved furnishings and thick, richly dyed rugs.

  Elder Humund must have been well-off, but it seemed most of the goods had a certain aesthetic flair he’d seen elsewhere in town. He’d bought local, and Bronwyn couldn’t exactly spot anything he’d call a frivolous expense.

  Entering the office, the elder himself was sitting at a table, a dozen reams of paper splayed out in front of him as a quill blurred in the man’s hand. He stopped his work a heartbeat after they entered, looking up — green eyes bending his own as the elder’s bushy white eyebrows rose and he gave them a friendly smile.

  “Ah, the adventurers.” The elder switched his attention to the guard. “Thank you for showing them in, nephew. You can leave us.”

  The guard eyed them suspiciously for a moment before evidently deciding his uncle was not in any danger. Nodding, he swept out of the room.

  “Sire Bronwyn, I presume?” the elder asked, a hopeful expression on his face.

  Bronwyn nodded, drawing a sigh of relief from Humund.

  “I dared not hope, since it would confirm the serious nature of my issue. Still, I cannot deny I am relieved to see that Deadacre is taking our plight seriously.”

  “Believe me, we’re just as eager to get to the bottom of this as you are,” Yanira said.

  “We don’t come empty-handed, either,” Bronwyn added. “I’ve a barrel of common spears, a few more of beast pemmican, and another of medical and alchemical supplies. I know the food isn’t a lot for a village of this size, but it’s the best that Deadacre can do in the circumstances. We have our own mouths to feed, and we personally have a few more villages to visit.”

  Regardless of the meagreness of their offerings, Elder Humund’s face brightened, a wide smile splitting his face. “Thank the gods. Even those spears and medical supplies alone will help plenty. With our farms, we’ve been doing all right, but it’s the beasts that are the real problem.”

  They’d anticipated that.

  Hells, even the spears were more a psychological comfort than a true defence against a horde. But will and courage mattered just as much as strength of arm during the hard times.

  “One of the guards at your gate mentioned that you’d had people picked off. We’d heard about some villages going dark, but that was news to us. Are you able to tell us more?”

  A tight frown stretched across Elder Humund’s face. “It’s madness,” he sighed. “If I was any more taken to flights of fancy, I’d say we were being haunted by vengeful spectres. No one ever sees anything from the walls — nothing more than a flash of fur or a snarl in the dark. At first, we weren’t sure what it was, but now… well, let’s just say people don’t go into the bush anymore.”

  The more he learned, the more Bronwyn grew certain that this was unnatural. Beasts just didn’t act like that. Anything desperate enough to be hunting men this close to a village should have long since been spotted. Hells, even beasts driven to a mindless, swarming rage couldn’t exactly be called secretive.

  “What of the nearby communities — those who still survive, at least? Have they dealt with the same?”

  “They have,” Elder Humund confirmed, before he paused for a moment. “I’ve been collaborating with the other elders, tracking the attacks. Would you like to see a map?”

  Bronwyn could have kissed the man. That was exactly what they needed.

  “Please.”

  Hopefully, this would be the first step towards solving this mystery.