Even before Arran reached the village's opened gates, he was hit by an overwhelming stench, strong enough that he almost stopped in his tracks.
He'd fought enough battles to recognize the foul smell immediately. It was the smell of death, and if it was this strong even here, he could scarcely imagine what horrors they would find behind the walls.
Yet there was no choice but to continue. There were two hundred Blightspawn barely two miles away, and the village's tall walls offered the only protection they would find for miles around.
That protection hadn't been enough to save the villagers, but there was no other choice. Outrunning the Blightspawn would have been a tall order for the mercenaries on the best of days, and with the number of wounded they carried, it was utterly impossible.
Short of leaving the wounded behind, their only option was to seek shelter. And disastrous though the battle had been, leaving the wounded was a step Arran was unwilling to make.
When he stepped through the gates, he saw at once what caused the unbearable stench that filled the area. And the sight of it filled him with shock.
At the center of the village square lay a massive pile of mutilated corpses, large enough that it almost resembled a small hill. There were thousands of bodies, mangled beyond recognition, the pile that held them a tangled mess of blood and broken limbs.
Arran knew at once that these weren't just villagers. There were far more bodies than a village this size would hold. That could only mean the Blightspawn had been here for days, perhaps even weeks, massacring all soldiers and traders who passed.
He stared at the pile of bodies for several moments before his daze was pierced by the captain's voice.
"Take the wounded to the temple!" Kaleesh shouted. "The rest of you, close the gates and man the walls!"
Arran tore his eyes away from the mound of bodies, then hurried to a large building at the side of the village square that he knew must be the temple.
When he stepped into the building, he saw that the main hall was filled with rubble — the remains of the Darian gods' statues, which the Blightspawn must have smashed.
He paid the broken statues no mind. Though Darians might have been outraged at the sight, Arran's only thoughts were of his wounded allies and the horde of monsters that still threatened them.
Carefully, he laid down the wounded mercenary he'd carried into the village. And as he did, he realized it was the lone borderlander who'd chosen to join them instead of accepting Rannoc's offer.
"Thank you," the youth said weakly, forcing a small smile to appear on his pale face. "I'd be dead without you. We'd all be."
Arran quickly looked over the young man's wounds, and was relieved to see that none seemed fatal. While the injuries were serious, they would heal with time.
But then, time was exactly what they lacked.
"I have to go check the gates," he said to the borderlander. "You stay here, and don't move too much. The others will take care of you."
There were several mercenaries already caring for the wounded troops who'd been brought into the temple, and Arran knew he could not linger. If the Blightspawn attacked, only he and the captain had a chance of repelling them.
He hurried back outside without waiting for a reply, then quickly climbed the wall, where he found Kaleesh staring at the Blightspawn in the distance.
"They're not moving," the captain said as Arran approached. "I suppose they'll wait for nightfall before they attack."
"Then we have a few hours to prepare," Arran replied.
"For all the good that'll do." Kaleesh shook his head in frustration, and continued in a harsh voice, "This should not have happened."
"But it did," Arran said. "Things rarely—"
"You don't understand," Kaleesh interrupted him, his voice trembling with anger. "While you were wasting your time on Raina's daughter, I found out all I could about the Blight. They've never attacked east of Knight's Watch, and even in the Desolation, their groups never count more than one or two dozen. This—"
He took a deep breath, and the anger in his eyes faded. "This shouldn't have happened," he said again, though his voice was weary now. "We've lost twelve men, and half as much again won't make it to the morning — if we even last that long."
"We'll think about that later," Arran said. "Right now, we should search the village. I don't think any Blightspawn remain, but we have to check. And we'll have to find out how they got inside."
"You're right," Kaleesh said. "But first, take care of your wounds. If they attack, we'll need your strength."
"My wounds?" Arran looked at him in wonder. "I don't have any—"
He stopped talking mid-sentence, as he realized that there were several wounds on his body. And although they were already healing, the carnage of battle should have provided the Blood Ruin with enough fuel to have healed even the most serious wounds instantly.
And yet, that hadn't happened.
"Just take care," Kaleesh said. "You're strong, but you're not immortal."
Without any further words, he set off to search the village.
Arran remained standing in silence for several moments, only now realizing that the Blood Ruin seemed far weaker than it should be. Hundreds of deaths should have him reeling with power, but instead, what he felt was only a sliver of that.
The power was more than he would have gained from his allies' deaths, but far less than he should have seized from the Blightspawn that died.
Briefly, he worried whether there was something wrong with the Blood Ruin — whether it had weakened somehow. If so, it would be a disaster.
Yet before he could even finish the thought, he recalled that something else had been different, as well. In the heat of battle there had been no time to consider it, but now, he realized that he had only barely Sensed the Blightspawn as he was fighting them.
He had clearly Sensed their magic when they used it, but other than that, it was as if they were shades, their figures somehow weak and blurry to his Sense.
But they hadn't concealed themselves with Shadow magic, of that he was certain. Had they done so, he would have known instantly.
Moreover, they weren't hidden from his Sense, exactly. Rather, it was like Sensing creatures that were only partly alive, their presence far weaker than their strength suggested.
He sighed, then quickly set off to scour the village for any hidden Blightspawn. If nothing else, at least he now knew what to search for.
The village was small enough that it took Arran and the captain less than half an hour to search every single inch of it. But no Blightspawn remained, and Arran found no gaps in the walls or tunnels into the village.
What he did find were numerous weapons and a massive cache of supplies, all discarded like trash. Among the weapons were several starmetal swords, likely taken from Rangers who'd died to the trap. But why the Blightspawn had thrown them aside, he did not know.
And either way, it made no difference. Right now, what the Wolfsblood Company lacked most were numbers, not weapons.
When he met Kaleesh again atop the wall that overlooked the Blightspawn, the captain cursed in frustration. "Nothing," he spat. "Not even the slightest crack in the defenses, nor any sign that the walls were stormed. I can't see how they got inside."
"They must have entered before the villagers could close the gate," Arran said. It was the only explanation. The walls were high enough that if the Blightspawn had stormed them, there would have been signs of battle.
Yet Kaleesh shook his head. "You've seen how these villages are. The guards never take their eyes off the gates, and the area around the village is completely clear. A group of Blightspawn couldn't have reached the gates before they were closed. Unless—"
"There was only one," Arran said, knowing he'd just had the same thought as the captain. "One fast enough to get inside, and strong enough to defeat the guards alone."
"A Reaver." Kaleesh spat on the ground, then let out another loud curse. "If there's a Reaver with that group…"
"Then the situation is worse than we thought." Arran was unable to keep himself from sighing deeply. "And it wasn't good to begin with. Lady Raina said strong Reavers can match Knights, so both of us would be needed to hold it off."
"Which would leave two hundred Blightspawn to slaughter the troops." Kaleesh cast a long look at the Blightspawn in the distance, then shook his head. "I have nothing. The walls will help us hold them off, but we are too few to mount a proper defense."
"Get some rest," Arran said. "We still have a few hours before the sun sets. Perhaps you'll think of a plan once you clear your mind."
Arran knew Kaleesh well enough to know how heavily the deaths of his men would weigh upon his mind. But right now, the mercenaries needed their captain to find a strategy. If he lingered on the disastrous battle, a second disaster might well follow it.
The captain looked as if he was about to object, but after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "I'll go check on the wounded, first. After that, I'll try to rest for a few hours."
As Kaleesh made his way to the temple, Arran turned his attention to the Blightspawn in the distance.
So far, they had shown no sign of moving, much less attacking. Most likely, the captain was right — they planned to attack after sunset, when the night would help them cross the walls unseen.
If the Blightspawn charged in force, it would be all but impossible for the mercenaries to hold them all back. And if just one or two made it past the walls, opening the gate would be a simple matter.
Arran could head out by himself and confront their enemies, of course. Doing so would mean he didn't have to worry about the mercenaries, which would be no small advantage.
Yet there might be a Reaver among the Blightspawn, and if Reavers were as strong as Knights, then his chances of victory would be poor at best. And worse, it appeared his Blood Ruin only barely benefited from the Blightspawn he killed.
Still, the more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that something was amiss — that the creatures' strange resistance to his powers was no coincidence.
He was convinced that when the creature in the cavern had spoken of its brothers — the ones whose powers Arran supposedly carried — it had spoken of the Darian gods. If that was the case, there would be Darians who shared such powers.
The church, after all, granted gods' bloodlines to Darians warriors who earned them.
Moreover, Arran knew that Knights, Lords, and Archons all possessed Living Shadow weapons. And although he didn't know how strong a bond they shared with their weapons, he knew they could use their Sense at least to some extent.
He'd witnessed this himself when he first arrived in the Imperium and an Archon effortlessly Sensed his starmetal ring.
That the Blightspawn resisted both these powers could not be a simple matter of chance. They weren't natural creatures — they were humans, deliberately twisted into monsters through foul magics.
If the Blightspawn perfectly countered powers the Darians' greatest fighters possessed, it would be by design, not by chance. Their creator had created them to resist the Darians, and in doing so, he'd also created creatures that could threaten Arran.
Yet Arran wasn't a Darian.
Though he shared many of the Darians' strengths, he also had something the Imperium lacked — magic. And if the Blightspawn had been created to fight Darians, then perhaps magic would be a more effective tool in defeating them.
It took only moments before an idea formed in his head, and soon, a grim smile appeared on his face. His plan would be risky, but no more so than waiting for the Blightspawn to attack.