Common Clay

The next day, Clay woke to hear the village alarm bell ringing. It was a distant, muffled sound so far away from the farmhouse, but the message was clear, regardless. Something was threatening Pellsglade.

He had a sudden vision of the town overrun by spiders, of villagers and farmers alike ambushed from burrows or caught by nets. Suppressing a shudder, Clay grabbed the boar spear, his sling, and his bow.

Then he headed down the road towards Pellsglade at the best pace he could keep, his leg sending a stab of pain with every other step.

His farm was far enough from town that Clay was one of the last to arrive. The continued twinges of pain were not helpful, of course, but the ringing bell lent him some speed.

The town was still intact when he arrived, though it seemed like every farmer and villager had gathered on the village green. Clay couldn’t even see the Stone in the center of that crowd, though he caught sight of his family. His mother and father were perched on the family cart, along with all of his siblings. They caught sight of him too; it was obvious that Amelia had asked Sam to stay at the edge of the village to let her see if he was coming.

Clay smiled and waved to them, though his mother jumped from the cart and ran to him, anyway. “You’re hurt! What’s happening?”

“It was just an accident. I don’t know any more than you do.” He looked over to see the baron speaking with his guards. “What have you heard?”

“Nothing. They’re waiting for everyone to gather before they say anything.” She was looking him over, as if searching for more wounds. “You’re sure you are fine?”

“I am.” Clay looked over as Sam walked up, his hands in his pockets. The [Farmer] was almost too casual, as if he wasn’t aware of how that shouted his relief. “Just a little accident, nothing to make a big deal over.”

“If you say so.” Sam looked him over as well, though his eyes settled on something different. “That spear. Where did you get it?”

“I, uh, paid for it. With the baron’s money.” He hesitated, sensing he was on dangerous ground. “It’s useful for hunting, and I guess I thought it would help me stay safe.”

“You did, huh?” His father folded his arms, and his jaw worked as if he was chewing a piece of gristle. Then he sighed. “I can see it, but you still could have spent it on seed or tools. Maybe even help for the farm. Be more careful in the future.”

“I will.” Clay decided not to mention the other purchases he’d made—or what exactly he’d been using them for. Then he looked up as the baron stood away from the guards. The chamberlain worked a minor spell, one that would carry the baron’s voice to the entire crowd. As the baron stepped up on a podium, the alarm bell finally fell silent. His parents turned to watch, and the baron began to speak.

“People of Pellsglade! I have gathered you here to make a grave announcement. Undead have been spotted moving through the woods to the south.”

A murmur ran through the crowd, and Clay’s father went stiff. When Clay looked back at him, Sam had gone pale, and his eyes were distant. It was as if he’d been thrown back into the past, to the time where the Undead had hunted and killed his family. Those monsters had been the ones that had driven him to flee to Pellsglade for safety. He could read the thoughts in his father’s eyes. Would the monsters come here as well?

Amelia stepped up beside her husband, laying a hand on his arm. He appeared to come back to himself and patted her hand in reassurance, though he was still pale. Clay felt his hands tighten on his spear, and anger flickered in his heart as he turned back to the baron.

Lord Pellsglade had paused long enough for the murmurs to die down. When he spoke again, his voice was grave, but unwavering. “There are not enough of them to be a true threat, but all the same, I will be leading a force of my guards to fend off this invasion. We will also send a request to the capital for help. They will surely send adventurers to help us deal with this threat.”

Clay nodded slowly. The baron was a [Noble], which meant he was technically an adventurer as well. [Nobles] were not particularly renowned as fighters, but they were tougher than [Commoners], and enjoyed the ability to gain levels from their titles and responsibilities. Rumor said that Lord Pellsglade was at least level six, which would have made him capable of taking on lower level threats by himself. There were a few lower level [Nobles], cousins of his, that remained nearby as well. It would be enough to prevent the occasional problem from becoming an issue, though more serious issues would still require professional adventurers.

For the first time, he suddenly wondered why Pellsglade hadn’t involved himself in the problems in Tanglewood. Surely an actual [Noble] could have cut a swath through the spiders. Why was the baron allowing that problem to continue? Perhaps he recognized that without a team of adventurers, he’d never be able to stop the Lair from simply replenishing their numbers? Or was there another reason?

“We will work to lead the threat away from the village. Anyone who lives in the south will be invited to stay in the village until the threat is dealt with. Do not wander in the direction of the problem, and trust us to handle things. That is all.”

There was more murmuring, but Clay barely heard it. His mind was already reviewing the path south. If the Undead were deciding to make their presence known, he was more than willing to extend his war to them as well.

“Welcome, traveler…” Olivia paused, and something very much like irritation flashed across her face. She quickly returned her expression to a blank neutrality. “Was there something you needed?”

Clay tried not to notice the amount of ice in those words. He forced a smile. “I…was just wondering if you had discovered anything about the Undead. I mean, besides what we already read about before?”

“I see.” She regarded him with a dissatisfied expression and then turned on her heel. “I have not.”

“Oh.” He searched for something else to say, but it seemed like the words refused to come. Suddenly, the quiet of the shrine seemed far less comfortable, even with the sunlight streaming in through the windows. “Thank you for your help, then. I apologize if I have interfered with your responsibilities.”

Clay bowed and turned to leave. He stopped a moment later when she spoke.

“Wait.”

He looked back at her, and was surprised to see uncertainty in her face. In fact, she almost seemed like she regretted saying anything, but she took a breath and forged on, regardless. “What did you need it for?”

Clay looked back at her. “What do you mean?”

“The lore about the Undead. What did you need it for?” Olivia’s expression became determined, something very unlike the serene detachment he was used to seeing. “For that matter, what did you need any of it for?”

“I—I was just curious. That’s all.” He took a slow step backward, as if to escape the situation. “You don’t need to worry about it. I’m sorry I troubled you.”

“I did not say you troubled me.” She took a step forward, maintaining the distance between them. “I said I wanted to know why you were asking for my help—and I do not believe that it was for mere curiosity. Tell me.”

He looked back at her, realizing that she hadn’t been nearly as fooled by his deceptions as he’d hoped. At the same time, he couldn’t just tell her what he’d been doing, could he? Then everyone would know…

Why was he so nervous about that? It wasn’t as if there were any laws forbidding [Commoners] from fighting monsters. It just…wasn’t done. Without the extra training and skills of the adventurers, every [Commoner] knew that fighting the monsters themselves was suicide. Even [Guards] and [Soldiers] would have to be fools to try.

Yet he had done it. He was fighting the monsters and surviving. If others in Pellsglade knew, what would they say? That he was a fool? Clay knew that most of them already thought of him as a failure, the only one of a ‘generation of heroes’ who had been given the [Commoner] class. Would being labeled a fool be that much worse?

It would make his parents worry, but they probably already did. Would the town think he was somehow making that worse for everyone? Maybe they would say that he was stirring things up in the Tanglewood. Maybe there was some law or tradition that he was breaking by heading out to fight as a [Commoner], and they would run him out of town. Things would be that much safer and easier if he just kept it all to himself. Better to keep it all to himself, and stay at his work alone.

Clay turned to tell her it was all just idle curiosity and to not worry about it—and stopped. She looked at him, waiting, and the words wouldn’t come. They couldn’t. He couldn’t.

“I’m killing them, Olivia. I’m destroying them, one at a time. And I’ll do it until they are all gone.”

She stared at him, her face a mask of surprise. Silence stretched between them, and he suddenly didn’t want to hear her response. Whether it was laughter or accusations or disbelief, for some reason, it seemed like it would be a bit too much.

So, without waiting, Clay stepped back out of the shrine and into the day. He had work to do, now more than ever.

He spent the first part of the day escorting his family back to their farm. Luckily, it was to the west of town, so they were not among the ones who needed to evacuate. Sam insisted on having Clay stay with them, however; though he was less pale than he had been, his father apparently wanted to make sure that his whole family was safe while there were Undead around.

Clay patiently helped out around the farm, going through the motions of the old, familiar chores. He thought some of the cows and chickens seemed to remember him, and his siblings seemed to be excited to hand off some of their responsibilities. His mother was quietly content with the chance to feed him; she insisted he needed to put some more meat on his bones, and he had to admit that her food made the temporary stay at home worth it.

Of course, it made his other responsibilities less simple. Obviously he wasn’t going to be able to clear any more of his fields until the threat was over, and any visits into the Tanglewood would be put on hold.

It also meant that sneaking out to go help with the Undead threat was going to be…interesting at best. None of the family was going to want to let him out of their sight. Not while the threat remained—and while they kept him from helping, the threat would be there that much longer.

Clay would have thought it an interesting problem if it wasn’t so incredibly irritating. Still, he had plenty of time to think about it, as he went through the motions of chores that were both so familiar and so strange at the same time. He kept feeling just a little off balance as he went through the motions of those chores. Lifting the hay bales was a little too easy; he kept having to remind himself not to squeeze too hard when he milked the cows. Even with his limp, he seemed like he walked too fast, compared to what he had done before.

When the family gathered for a warm dinner, he continued to think the problem over. His brothers and sisters bundled themselves off to the beds in the loft, and Clay was left with his mother and father, still sitting by the fire.

Sam was still nervous and excused himself to go outside. Amelia followed him with her eyes, her expression growing worried as the door closed. “I don’t know if he’ll sleep tonight. He rarely does, when the Undead rise.”

Clay raised his eyebrows. “This has happened before?”

“Every so often, yes. There is a place down by where Sarlsboro used to be; it releases more and more of them, and sometimes they wander in our direction. Normally, the baron tries to keep it quiet, so this time it must be worse than usual. Maybe there are more of them.”

He wondered, for a moment, if the baron of Sarlsboro had tried to keep things quiet, while a Lair grew nearby. How long had it been before they consumed the town, sending Sam Evergreen and the family members that survived running for their lives? How long before a similar rush of monsters took Pellsglade?

Then he shook his head. Those questions were for later, when they had more time. Right now, he had to figure out a way to slip past his parents and head south. Maybe he didn’t have experience with them, but he was level three now. There had to be something he could do.

Out loud, he sighed. “Let me see if I can go and keep him company. At least he doesn’t need to wait up alone.”

As he stood, his mother reached out to him. “Thank you. Just let him know we’ll be safe. The baron will take care of things. He always has.”

Clay nodded and went out to join his father.

He found Sam easily, despite the gathering shadows. His father was sitting on the fence by the road, facing south. Sam’s hands were working over a small bit of coiled cord. It was something he rarely did. He’d mentioned, once, that it had been something his father had made for him back in Sarlsboro. When Clay joined him at the fence, he glanced over and patted the fence beside him, but his other hand continued to toy with the cord.

Clay took a seat beside him on the fence. They sat in silence together, watching as the darkness fell over the country around them. As the sunset began to fade, reducing the details to shadows and smears. It still seemed clearer than it had a few weeks before. [Watcher] was clearly helping him more than he’d expected.

“It wasn’t a bad place, you know.” Sam’s voice actually startled him. He looked over to see Sam still staring out into the dark. “Sarlsboro. The people weren’t bad. Sometimes there were fights, and we didn’t all agree, but mostly they were just…people. Just [Commoners] trying to make things work. They did the best they could.”

Sam shook his head, his hands bunching up around the cord. “The adventurers tried to stop it, but there weren’t enough of them, and they didn’t come often enough. Things got out of control, and…” His voice faded out under the weight of his own memories. It was a while before he continued. “Everything seemed like it failed all at once. Suddenly the Undead were everywhere. Marching into the village, the farms. One night, my father woke me up. He said there were Undead at the edge of the forest. Waiting for something.”

There was another long pause, broken only by his father’s voice, nearly on the edge of a sob. “We tried to run, but it was too late. I barely survived.”

“That’s not going to happen again, Dad. The baron will stop them.” If Lord Pellsglade failed, then he would do it. Alone if he had to. “We’re safe here.”

“I wonder what it felt like. For him to see them standing there, realize what was happening, and know what it meant.” Sam shivered. Then he turned to Clay and grabbed his shoulder. “May the gods help me to never understand that feeling.”

Clay nodded, and Sam turned back to the south. He tried to find a casual way to say his next words. “I think I’ll sleep in the barn tonight. It’ll be less hard for Will and the others to not have to make space.”

Sam looked back at him. “There’s always space here for you, son.”

“I know. I just don’t want to make any more trouble than I have to.” Clay tried a smile. “Besides, I’m used to sleeping alone now.”

His father chuckled after a moment. “I understand, son. Go ahead. I’ll be here a while longer.”

Clay nodded and then slipped away. His heart ached to leave his father there, but he knew what he had to do.

Clay walked back to the barn. He paused beside the door and then continued past it. Skirting behind the building, he slipped back around it and made his way south. His new skill, Hide, meant that he moved far quieter than he ever had. For a moment, he thought Sam might have caught sight of him, but his father didn’t move from the fence as he moved across the road and into the grove on the other side.

From there, he continued heading south, crossing the occasional field and keeping to the trees where he could. [Forrester] gave him the advantage there, which he needed thanks to the gathering darkness. Fortunately, the moon was close to full, giving him plenty of light for travel.

The Sarlwood was a large forest, one that stretched for miles to the south. He managed to get there without tripping over the baron’s patrols, which was cause for some gratitude.

It was also a living forest, something that felt entirely different from the Tanglewood. Here, there were birds rustling in the branches, small animals darting through the underbrush. His abilities now revealed many of their signs, but he didn’t go after any of them. They were too comforting compared to the dead silence of the Tanglewood. Here, he could almost believe that life was normal.

Unfortunately, all was not well in the Sarlwood. There were signs of more than just animals in the woods. Heavy bootprints had crushed vegetation and left deep marks in the mud. Some of the trees had marks on them, like men had pushed past them carrying weapons.

At first, he thought it was because of the baron’s men roaming the woods in search of the Undead. Then he realized he was finding the signs a bit too easily—which meant that [Slayer] was giving him help. All of which meant he was seeing traces of monsters, not people. Monsters that were shaped like men.

The traces grew more and more obvious as he pushed further south. It was a stark contrast to what he had seen in the Tanglewood. Unlike the spiders, it seemed like the Undead were not interested in concealing their presence. There would be no hunting them out of burrows, no ambushes waiting for him in the dark. If anything, it was making him worried about how many Undead there were. From the signs, there could be dozens of them wandering around the Sarlwood. Was that why the baron had sounded the alert this time?

It took him the better part of an hour to find the first monster.

The thing was staggering through the woods, making enough noise that any of the spiders in Tanglewood could have seen it coming. He thought it looked like a human wearing rags, carrying a pitchfork. A rotting scent filled the air, telling him that whatever that thing was, it wasn’t a person. It was a monster, wearing a body that had once been a human being.

Clay stepped forward carefully, tempted to put his boar spear through the thing already. He knew the Undead wouldn’t go down easily, but he remembered his father, sitting on the fence with the cord in his hand…

Something convinced him to stay his hand. He stayed silent and watched, searching for other clues.

At that moment, a second Undead stomped through the underbrush. A third followed, then another, and another. Before long, an entire troop of the things were stumbling along through the woods, armed with a collection of repurposed farming equipment and rusted knives. They were clumsy, uncoordinated—and a lethal threat to anyone they stumbled across.

Clay drew back as one of them stomped its way closer to him. The information in the adventuring manual was sparse, the same way that it had been for the spiders. What it had made clear was how deceptively deadly the Undead could be. The moment they saw him, they would charge at terrible speed. Any self-preservation had died with the person who had occupied the body; an Undead would accept any blow for the chance to wound him, and a mortal injury for a normal human would not make them pause.

It had not mentioned that they moved in groups, however, nor that they would coordinate their searches. Clay felt a chill as he realized that these were a very different kind of monster than what he had faced. The war in the Tanglewood was a matter of ambush and stealth. This fight was going to be far more upfront and direct.

Another figure stepped through the underbrush, and he sank back behind the tree he was using as cover. The new Undead was different. It wore a kind of padded armor that reminded him of the baron’s guards, with a metal cap that covered its rotting skull. There was a long pole in its hands, something with an axe, spearpoint, and a hammer on the end. He saw a glow in its eyes and realized that the manual had described it as well.

The thing was a leader of the Undead, something that directed and organized the others. It had been called an Undead corporal in the manual, and the notes had been very specific that they should be destroyed whenever possible. He also remembered the things could see in the dark; he wouldn’t be able to rely on the monsters’ poor eyesight to hide him, the way he could with the spiders. His sense of danger grew with every moment.

He still followed them for a while, trusting in his experience and newfound skills to help him avoid notice. Every bit of information that he could gain would help him destroy these things later.

After another hour of observation, he made his way back north. It took him less time to get home, since he wasn’t trying to avoid notice. The moon gave him a clear view of the land, and as tired as he was, Clay got home quickly.

His father was no longer sitting on the fence when he got back. Clay watched for a minute to make sure that Sam wasn’t making a patrol or anything. Then he stole back across the road, skirted the side of the farmhouse, and slipped into the barn. As tired as he was, he had very little trouble falling asleep.

Tomorrow would be a very busy day.

The following morning, Clay threw himself into the chores to disguise his fatigue. Missing a few hours of rest was a problem that his [Stats] and [Laborer] made up for—just barely—but it helped that his father seemed almost as tired. When Sam asked him to take the cart into town, Clay agreed readily. The prospect of leading the mule cart into Pellsglade seemed much more appealing than a long afternoon of chores.

He rumbled into town on the cart and noted extra horses tied up outside the tavern. The Porters, who owned the tavern, had a few extra rooms that they offered to travelers. Perhaps the baron had reassured the village by moving some of his men there permanently. If so, then his respect for the man increased. Especially if the [Noble] was spending his time in the woods, going after the Undead as they wandered through the night.

He unloaded the cart in the back of Adam’s; apparently Sam had sold the shopkeeper a load of eggs and other foodstuffs. Adam had greeted him with a smile. The expression had a bit of an edge to it. Clay’s previous business deals had obviously left a sour taste in Adam’s mouth.

Still, Clay gave him a friendly wave, and then set off to the tavern. The shrine wasn’t the only place that had information that he might need.

When he entered the tavern, he saw a half dozen of the baron’s men picking over the remnants of their breakfast. Most of them seemed tired, almost exhausted. The baron himself wasn’t there, but he could imagine that the [Noble] was resting a bit more. At the very least, Lord Pellsglade would have the privilege of having his meals in his room.

Clay asked for a small meat pie and then sat with his back to two of the men. He was hoping that a combination of fatigue and general grumpiness would give him what he needed. His plans paid off a moment later.

“I still don’t see why we should spend our nights walking through the Sarlwood. We can’t even get to the real Undead, right? We should just wait for the adventurers to handle it.”

“And we want to just let the Undead kill half the village before they get here?” The contempt in the second guard’s voice was clear, but so was his fatigue. “The baron needs to have someone distract the lower ranks of the Undead while he goes after the bigger ones in the back. If that means we spend a few nights roughing it, then that’s what we’re going to do.”

The complainer grunted to himself in clear resentment. “I just don’t want to get killed for nothing, is all. The things don’t even stay down!”

“They will when the baron’s done with their bosses.” The gruff veteran paused for a moment, his fork and knife clinking for a moment. “So just stick to your job, and we’ll get through this just fine.”

More information, then. The lower level Undead could get back up when defeated, but they depended on the corporals for the ability. That fact would mean he’d be able to cripple the enemy if he managed to get to their leaders.

Of course, he imagined the Undead wouldn’t make it that easy. If it was so simple, then Lord Pellsglade wouldn’t have needed a bunch of guards to help him deal with the situation. He’d need to be careful. It would be even more of a problem if the baron was in the same area; he’d have to avoid Lord Pellsglade and the guards while he worked.

Finishing off the meat pie, he made as if to stand. Then a hand landed on his shoulder. “Clay! I thought that was you.”

He blinked in surprise and looked over to see Herbert. The [Guard] grinned at him and crossed over to sit at the other chair on the table. “So, what brings you into town? Are you tired of being out on your own?”

“I’m helping out with my family at the moment. They wanted me around until the Undead are dealt with.”

Herbert nodded. “Yeah, that’s why we’re here, too. We spent half the night down south, looking for the enemy. We didn’t catch any of them, or at least not enough to matter.”

Clay frowned. They hadn’t even found any of them? The monsters had been so obvious! Outwardly, he tried to look concerned. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think you’ll find any today?”

“Not likely.” Herbert sighed. “They hide during the day. We have to find them at night, which makes the whole thing harder.”

The enemy was nocturnal. He thought the journal had mentioned something along those lines, but he hadn’t expected them to hide during the daytime. Was that just because they couldn’t use their advantage in night vision? Or was there another reason? Maybe he could track them to wherever they were hiding during the day and kill them while they slept.

Suddenly eager to be about it, he stood up. “Well, I should be going. Thanks again for your help the other day.”

Herbert grinned up at him, a little incredulous. “Uh, sure. How is that leg, anyway? Still healing up fine?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Clay slapped his leg, ignoring the twitch of pain that ran through his leg. “You did a great job on that.”

The [Guard]’s smile widened. “Sure. The rest of these guys have given me plenty of experience with it.” He slapped the table lightly. “The baron sometimes jokes that I should have been given the [Healer] subclass instead of [Guard]. Still, I think I prefer the chance to fight instead of stitching people up all the time.”

“True.” Clay nodded to him. “I’ll see you around next time.”

Herbert seemed ready to object, but another of the baron’s men chose that moment to call out to him. Clay took advantage of the distraction to make for the exit. He thought he heard someone call out to him, but he pretended not to hear and ducked out into the morning.

He needed to head south as quickly as he could. If the guards couldn’t find the Undead, they wouldn’t be able to stop him either, and while they might not have been able to find any traces of the Undead, he was certain that he could. Once he tracked them all down and destroyed them, the invasion would be all over.

After he checked with Adam, Clay made his way south. He reached the Sarlwood before the next hour was done, slipping past the handful of riders that the baron had set to watch over things. Once he was in the woods, it did not take him long to pick up the trails left by the Undead. The signs were literally everywhere, scattered all across the forest. Snapped twigs, bootprints, and trampled vegetation might as well have pointed a glowing sign to where the monsters had been. Would any of them have even lasted a minute against the spiders of Tanglewood?

Clay followed the trail quickly and easily. Unlike the Tanglewood, where he had to examine every step for ambush or traps, he sensed no real danger from this place. At least, none beyond what the Undead would carry with them. Occasionally, a squirrel would skitter across his path, or a bird would burst into song, and he would freeze in place as his instincts shouted warnings. Then he would shake his head and force himself forward again.

When the trail led him to a clearing, he paused in surprise.

The continual tramp of Undead boots had torn up and ruined the ground. They had killed any grass, leaving the clearing a barren patch of dirt. He wondered if there would be any life in this place for a while. Perhaps the Undead themselves had drained this place of life.

Littering the clearing were dozens of corpses. He could recognize some of them as the Undead that he’d seen the night before. The weapons they’d wielded were strewn across the ground, as if they were discarded toys.

Beyond that field of corpses, there was a small cave. Was that where the corporals were resting? It would provide them some protection from the sun, something they would want if the sunlight weakened them. He certainly didn’t see any of them laying among the lesser Undead in the clearing.

Clay watched for a long moment, making sure that the corpses weren’t just feigning death to lure him in. None of them moved, not even when a crow flitted by to peck at one.

Deciding to test things a little further, Clay stepped forward. He approached the nearest corpse, his boar spear ready to strike. Once it was within reach, he stabbed down and into the thing’s skull, trying to ignore the stench that wafted up from it.

{Rotted Levy slain!}

He blinked. Obviously the thing was dead, but he hadn’t gotten any Soul for it. Did that mean he simply wouldn’t gain anything from killing them? Or did it mean he just needed to kill more of them?

Still frowning, Clay stepped forward and stabbed another corpse. Then another. And another.

{Rotted Levy slain!}

{Rotted Levy slain!}

{Rotted Levy slain!}

Clay paused, looking over the rest of the field. Killing the rest of them would be thorough, but it didn’t seem like it was gaining him anything at all. From what the [Guards] had been saying, the things would just get back up, anyway. What he needed to do was find the corporals and kill them.

His eyes went back to the cave. It was time to move forward. The real targets were waiting.

He did not rush in; his experiences in the Tanglewood had taught him better than that. Instead, Clay stalked forward slowly, careful not to disturb any of the corpses still on the ground. If one got in the way, he stabbed it, received the notification, and then moved on. The journey took a bit more time, but it was worth the effort to be careful.

When he reached the mouth of the cave, Clay paused to look inside. It wasn’t much more than a hole in the ground, a place that had been half overgrown by the roots of a nearby tree. There was a bend in the cave, preventing him from seeing too deeply inside, but the entire place was dark.

Clay grimaced. It would make sense; if the corporals could see in the dark, they wouldn’t need to use anything like a campfire. Bracing himself, he stepped into the cave, ducking under the low tree roots that overhung the entrance. He immediately felt a stab of discomfort; the walls of the cave seemed to close in around him. Fighting in such close quarters was going to be unpleasant at best. At least the cool air of the cave was a sharp difference compared to the heat of the summer sun.

His fingers tight on the haft of the spear, Clay edged a little further into the cave, his eyes picking out signs of passage already. The boots of the corporals had overturned some rocks, and a patch of mud had at least one clear track left dead center within it. He followed those traces, straining to see in the dark.

He reached the corner and paused. Clay took a deep breath, and then let it out. Then he turned the corner.

The corporals were waiting.

They stood within their cave, their weapons in their hands and their faces turned towards him. None of them were moving. He stared at them, a completely motionless gathering of armored corpses, and felt a chill steal through him. The corporals didn’t look like they were resting. Instead, it was as if they were simply…waiting for something…

All at once, they abruptly brought their weapons up and into position. He felt a sudden burst of dread strike through him, and he brought his own spear up. To his shock, he saw his hands shaking. What was wrong with him? They were just Undead. He’d seen them before; why was their presence so unnerving now?

They moved forward in unison, marching at him out of the dark. He could see more of them moving in the shadows beyond, forming up in ranks rather than rushing at him individually. Clay backed up, confronted by a hedge of spearpoints that were mounted on weapons longer than his own. How was he supposed to—?

A clattering sound rose from the entrance of the cave, and he glanced outside. Horror stole through him as he saw the corpses in the clearing beginning to stand up, picking up their weapons as they did so. If they turned on him, they could fill the cave entrance in moments, trapping him between the corporals and the levies. He’d be surrounded, with no way out.

One of the corporals lunged, and he caught the sight of its spear coming at him from the corner of his eye. He dodged to the side, feeling the weapon slide past him. Clay realized that he wasn’t going to win this one. If he didn’t escape, then his own corpse would be marching alongside the others when the Undead attacked Pellsglade.

Urgency combined with his own gnawing fear to give him speed. Clay ran for the cave entrance, his breath sounding harsh in his ears as the corporals’ boots pounded the ground behind him. He didn’t dare look back, knowing that if he slowed down even for a moment, he was probably finished. If he didn’t reach the forest before they caught him…

He refused to focus on the thought, instead pouring more desperation into his legs. Clay nearly clipped the overhanging roots with his head, but he barely cared. One of the levies was already lurching towards him, a rusted sickle held high.

Clay stabbed it with the boar spear, more to knock it off its feet than to kill it. The blow cracked the thing’s arm, and it staggered back. He yanked his spear free as he passed by the levy, still trying to weave between the rest of the monsters as the Undead awakened. All of them were rising now, even the ones he had supposedly killed earlier. Soft moans and creaks echoed through the clearing, even as he dodged past the one with a spear-hole in its skull and made for the treeline.

Somehow, he made it to the trees, even as the moaning rose to a collection of wails behind him. Part of him wanted to keep running, sure that he could feel the cold breath of the Undead on his neck—but another part urged him to at least look back, to see how close the Undead were to catching him.

When he glanced back, sure that the corporals were going to be close on his heels, he nearly tripped in shock.

The corporals were still at the cave mouth, their polearms facing outward in a network of spearpoints. All around them, the Undead levies were staggering to their feet, but their movements seemed clumsier than they had been even the night before. As he watched, one of them tripped over another one, laying in the dirt for a moment before it could push itself upright.

It was like they were stumbling around in darkness. Like they were blind.

Clay slowed down, his breath still coming in rough gasps. He watched the Undead milling about in the clearing, safely tucked behind the concealing foliage, and came to a realization. They didn’t rest or sleep during the day, but they withdrew for a reason after all. At night, their vision was clear, but during the day…

As he watched, the corporals withdrew back into the cave. The shadows covered their form, and he felt the chill of fear recede. Obviously, they had some sort of fear-inducing ability as well, something beyond the other monsters he’d faced. Even if he managed to close with them, they would work together to fend him off, or to paralyze him with fear. He couldn’t attack them in the cave, either; whatever was impeding their vision didn’t seem to affect them in the shadows.

Clay stood for a while, catching his breath. Beyond him, in the clearing, the Undead continued to search, occasionally stumbling a bit into the forest to tear at the trees. He started to step forward to get a better look.

Just then, a cloud passed over the sun. A breeze of cool air accompanied it, which seemed to freeze the sweat on the back of his neck.

At that moment, the Undead suddenly grew less clumsy. Two of them turned, and their empty eye sockets seemed to point directly in his direction.

They started towards him, their weapons already coming up. He backed up, bringing his own spear into line. How had things changed? The sun was still out. Was having it behind a cloud really enough? Were they going to chase him halfway to Pellsglade now?

Then the cloud passed, and Clay suddenly felt the heat of the sun on his skin again. The Undead in the clearing faltered, their rotten faces grimacing in confusion. One of them even put a hand over their empty eyes, gazing up at the sun in a bizarre parody of life. Then they both shook their heads and turned away.

Clay watched them, his mind racing. Was the sunlight really the problem? Or was it the heat? Could they somehow sense heat, the way the mantrap spiders could feel tremors through the ground? If so, their attacks at night made that much more sense now. They didn’t need a clear night; clouds and cold would only help them. Now that he thought of it, the stories of Undead attacking during the winter were common. In those conditions, their ‘sight’ would be especially keen. Their apparent fear of fire made sense too; a bonfire would baffle them like the shine from a mirror.

The fact that they were here in summer seemed to not bode well. It suggested that the colder months ahead might bring more of the things, and that these were just a vanguard. Clay’s eyes went back to the cave. Alone, he had no chance of digging the things out of there. If he was right, then the corporals could see him easily inside the cave, and they had enough polearms to skewer him no matter what he tried. Between that formation and their reinforcements outside, he was going to be forced to deal with them when they spread out through the woods.

It would have to be at night, then. Clay smiled. At least he had some idea of what to do now.