Chester pushed onward out of Domon Valley with his company of knights. A hired healer joined their band and sat with Princess Eril in her carriage after her unusual marking on her side was discovered. Only Chester knew about the marking while the rest of the company, Tohmath included only understood her highness wasn’t feeling well.

  “Please, for the morale of the Company, keep my status confidential.” The words of Eril echoed in Chester’s mind from the inn back in Parcielle.

  She’s right; not only shall morale dampen, rumors will fly off their tongues and spread like wildfire once we reach Illisean Lands once more.

  They rode hard, having purchased mounts from Parcielle, every knight sat atop of a green or red scaled creature, lean like a horse but every bit of a dragon in appearance save for their lack of wings, these were called duargons. When they came to a stream only a half mile from the entry to Grok Pass, they stopped to take a break, each man dismounted and enjoyed the rest since leaving Parcielle. They had been riding all morning, and Chester was every bit eager to get out of Domon Valley so he could find aid.

  He knocked on the carriage door. A leathery face dwarven woman opened the door, “Yes, Sir Atellis?”

  “How is her Highness?” he asked with worry.

  The old healer shook her head, her white hood and gray robe hiding all but her wrinkled face and brown eyes, “The pain seems to be constant, neither elevating nor alleviating but I have never in my sixty years o’ being a healer seen something like this.”

  “I shall be alright, I am sure, Sir Atellis,” Eril’s voice came from within the carriage. “We only need to reach Listagan with that, the Grand Castle and the Royal Shaman along with the Court Mystics can make this right once more, I am certain.”

  “Well, we are here at a stream for a brief respite milady,” Chester said placing a fist to his chest. His gaze fixed on the healer, “Do you still require some herbs?”

  “Ah do,” the dwarf woman replied, “Three moonbulbs, an aging sage, and pure water of the stream if you please.”

  Chester nodded, then ordered one of his fellow knights, a young man in his early twenties he knew as Kenth to assist him as he gathered the water in a canteen and the aging sage found on the side of a great oak tree nearby. Kenth went to gather the moonbulbs that grew twenty or so paces away from the stream’s edge.

  An ear splitting howl was heard to the north side of the carriage. All the resting knights stopped mid-conversation and got to their feet as Chester ran back from the stream fifty paces away. Another howl but closer now.

  “Draw your weapons men!” Tohmath ordered everyone as Chester came back.

  “What is it Tohmath?” Chester demanded as he reached his companion.

  “We’re going to find out,” Tohmath said as he ran and Chester followed with the rest of the knights behind him. On the way he passed the canteen of water and sage through the carriage window. “Stay here,” he instructed both the women inside.

  Going around the carriage, he saw them. Running head on from three hundred paces away, skeletal wolves, five in total made their way south heading for the humans. Hungry for flesh.

  Each of the knights in the company had their weapons ready, Chester drew his bow and aimed for the first one in front. The arrow struck it in the center of the skull, a minor fracture but it never slowed. Two hundred paces.

  Chester let another fly, aimed at its upper leg, it weaved to the right. The other knights had pikes in hand and Chester put his bow away, time was short. His long sword pulled from its scabbard. He focused on one of the six elements, the Knight training he received in the last few years taught him well of infusing elemental aether into his melee strikes; the infusion would only last for a single strike but now that would be his only hope and what he would need for each of these deadly dogs.

  “Brace for melee combat!” Chester rallied, the hilt of the sword against his forehead in silent prayer. “Light and shining lumin, enchant this strike, Aether Strike!”

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  The first bone wolf made a leap at Chester and he swung his blade that shined white, scattering the bones before they could bring him harm.

  The second and third closed in and gave a leap, Tohmath impaled his spear through its chest, hooked it as he flung it smashing it against the carriage, breaking bones as it came off. The third grabbed one of the other knights by the neck and toppled him to the ground.

  Another knight shouted the name as he came to save his companion, “Stahn!” His sword slashed at the undead beast.

  “Don’t break formation!” Chester commanded.

  Fourth and fifth hollow hound drew in, another knight shield bashed the fourth while the fifth took the man down by his chest and bit into his helmet. A bolt of lightning shot over the downed knight turning the skeletal wolf to ash. At the other side of that magic lightning, stood the old dwarf healer.

  “Ah won’t stay in safety while undead threaten lives!” the old woman proclaimed.

  The one Tohmath faced, missing part of its ribcage still stood. He focused, muttered a prayer similar to Chester as the once wolf circled on him slowly, he hesitated before finishing the prayer. The bone dog jumped and Tohmath impaled that spear through its skull causing it to fall apart.

  When the bones of the hounds were lifeless as they should be and safety returned to the Illisean Knights, Chester sheathed his sword and checked on his men. The knight named Stahn had a pained face as his neck and most of his left shoulder had fresh blood spilled over his breastplate. His rescuer, a knight named Kenth had a handkerchief pressed against the wound. The old dwarf woman rushed over as well. The man’s eyes were full of terror as light was fading from them, he couldn’t speak.

  “Save him,” cried Kenth to the dwarf woman.

  The healer got in close, “Light of recovery, hear my plea. Heal the wounds, heal the agony, bring your litany of awe. Restore.” Green aether shined from her hands onto the man’s neck. “It may be too late,” she said. “But try ah shall.”

  After a moment, the man lost consciousness. Chester watched waiting for an answer from the healer, Tohmath approached putting a hand on Chester’s shoulder. “We only suffered one other casualty.”

  Chester’s gaze fell to the older man, “We don’t know yet if Stahn here is another. He may make it,” he said with hope in his voice still.

  “Ah think he be stabilized. He needs lots of rest though,” the old dwarf woman said.

  “That is good news,” Chester told her.

  “One casualty in total then,” Tohmath said. “Edmick Bogan fell to the curs.”

  Chester lowered his head, “I feel shame that we lost anyone on this expedition.”

  “You can’t prevent every tragedy,” Tohmath said. “We should hold a funeral for him once we get back to Listagan.”

  Chester nodded, “I shall check on her Highness.” He along with the healer trekked back to the carriage and both went to a sprint when they heard her cries of anguish from within.

  “Princess Eril?!” the old healer called out.

  “Your Highness!” Chester said not even a heartbeat after, opening the door.

  Eril was lying across the seat, grabbing her side with the branding on it, groaning and crying in pain.

  “What is wrong?!” Chester shouted.

  “Sir Atellis! It hurts!” She yelled as tears ran down her cheeks.

  The old healer finally removed the young woman’s hands and the brand etched into her flesh, glowed a faint green color.

  “Ah shall try to prepare my concoction right away!” she said and began getting to work opening her bags for empty flasks as well as pulling out a mortar and pestle. “Do ye have the moonbulbs?”

  Chester looked around and saw the man he tasked with finding them, “Sir Kenth, did you gather the moonbulbs?!”

  The knight came running, holding up a small bag from his side, “That I did sir, gathered an extra in case it was needed.”

  “Well done,” Chester congratulated him as he received the bag to give to the healer. Princess Eril thrashed her body as the branding seared and appeared it was going to burst open.

  “By the Gods,” Kenth muttered peering into the carriage.

  “Avert your eyes Sir Kenth! I’ll not have you gawking at her Highness’ flesh. She is merely is unwell,” Chester snapped.

  Kenth took a meek appearance, his face reddened accenting his brown hair. “Apologies. I shall go and tend to Stahn once more,” he gave a bow with fist to chest and hurried away.

  Finishing the alchemic medicine at last, the healer applied it to the brand and despite some agonizing cries after a few moments, Eril’s voice calmed and the throbbing mark soothed.

  The old dwarf woman shook her head in her hood. “She must get to practiced shamans. Their skills will surpass mine. Ah have never seen such an illness like this.”

  “We have a man resting from his injuries, it will be difficult to move swiftly back to the Grand Lift to Illisea,” Chester said.

  The woman nodded, “I am aware lad. However, if you don’t move quickly, this could get much worse.”

  Chester grimaced on those words. “What is it doing to her exactly?”

  “I don’t know but considering this is the second time we’ve been attacked since leaving Parcielle, first it was zombies and now bone hounds… I think the brand is calling the undead toward her.”

  Chester looked to the ground. “Did that kobold have something to do with this?” he muttered.

  “What?” asked the woman.

  “Never mind. You’re right, we have to move with haste. I’m afraid there are some decisions I must make.”