Five in the Dark

Xil had seen enough dead people to know that silence changed around them. Not because the dead were quiet. Everything else became louder. Water dripping from stone. Leather creaking. Someone breathing too quickly. A boot scraping against rock. The four men ahead of him did not speak as they followed the drag marks deeper into the cave. That was unusual enough by itself. Jandar had gone almost three full minutes without saying anything. Xil considered asking whether he was ill.

He decided against it. The passage narrowed around them. Zook remained in front, bent low over the ground whenever the lantern offered enough light to see. Deacon followed with his crossbow raised. Jandar came next. Then Vegon. Xil stayed at the rear. Not because anyone had assigned him the position. Because it allowed him to watch them.

He had spent enough of his life watching people to know that what they did when frightened mattered more than what they claimed when they were safe. Zook grew quieter. Deacon grew harder. Vegon tried to understand the thing frightening him. Jandar talked. Until now. Ahead, Zook stopped.

“Here,” Zook said.

Deacon moved beside him. Xil came forward. The drag marks ended at a wall. Jandar looked at it.

“Wonderful.”

Vegon held the lantern closer.

“It isn’t solid,” Vegon said.

Xil could see what he meant. A seam ran vertically through the stone—not natural. A narrow opening had been covered with slabs and packed dirt. Zook touched the edge.

“Recently moved,” Zook said.

Deacon set down his crossbow.

“Help me,” Deacon said.

Jandar sighed.

“I knew eventually this Order would become manual labor.”

He put away his rapier and joined them. The slab shifted reluctantly. Stone grated against stone. A smell came through the opening. Old blood. Rot. And something dry beneath both. Bone dust. Xil knew that smell now. They widened the gap. Deacon picked up his crossbow again. Zook slipped through first. Jandar followed. Xil heard him stop. No joke. That told Xil enough. He stepped through. The chamber beyond was larger than the passage.

Natural stone had been cut flat in places, though badly. Broken crates lay against one wall. Rusted hooks had been hammered into another. Four bodies rested near the center—not arranged. Discarded. Silver-gray cloth showed beneath dried blood and dirt. Deacon entered behind Xil. His face changed. Vegon whispered something in Elvish. Xil did not need to understand the words. He knew the tone. The missing patrol. Four of them. They had found the rest. Zook approached slowly.

“Don’t touch anything yet,” Zook said.

Jandar looked at him.

“Do you think they’re—”

“No.”

Zook’s answer was gentle.

“Not alive.”

Xil moved toward the nearest body. A woman lay on one side, one arm folded beneath her. Her Silver Crown mark showed near the wrist. Faint. Like Corren’s. Xil knelt. The mark on his own arm warmed. He looked down. A pale silver shimmer moved beneath his skin. The dead woman’s mark answered. Once. Then faded. Jandar saw.

“So that’s what they meant,” Jandar said.

Xil nodded.

“Recognition,” Xil said.

Deacon looked toward the others. One by one, their marks gave the same weak response. Silver answering silver. Living to dead. Nobody said anything. Zook searched the edges of the chamber.

“Three came in walking,” Zook said.

Deacon looked at him.

“Three?” Deacon asked.

“One was dragged,” Zook replied.

“From the pack?”

“Probably.”

Jandar crouched near another body.

“So Corren left this room?” Jandar asked.

Zook shook his head.

“No. Corren’s tracks ended where we found him.”

Vegon frowned.

“Then the marks in the tunnels weren’t left by one survivor,” Vegon said.

“No.”

“More than one moved through the cave at different times.”

“Looks like.”

Xil examined the dead woman. Bruising around the throat. One arm broken. No obvious bite marks—not gnolls. At least not in the way he expected gnolls to kill. He moved to the next. Crushed ribs. Like Corren. The third had several deep punctures in the torso. The fourth— Xil stopped.

“Do not move him,” Xil said.

Jandar looked over.

“Why?” Jandar asked.

Xil pointed. Something pale protruded from beneath the man’s back—not stone.

Bone.

A rib. Too large to be human. It had driven through him from behind. Vegon stepped closer.

“The creatures,” Vegon said.

“Maybe,” Xil replied.

Deacon looked around the chamber.

“Where are they?” Deacon asked.

Zook had gone very still. Xil saw him tilt his head. Listening. Then the gnome whispered, “Above.” Everyone looked up. The ceiling moved. Bones fell. The first creature dropped directly onto Jandar. He disappeared beneath it. Deacon fired. The bolt shattered part of a skull. Another creature fell behind Vegon. Xil turned. Too slow. The thing struck the wizard across the shoulder. Vegon hit the wall. His lantern fell. Darkness swallowed half the chamber. Jandar shouted from the floor.

“Someone remove this!” Jandar shouted.

Zook attacked the creature pinning him. Xil reached Vegon.

“Can you move?” Xil asked Vegon.

“Yes.”

“Then move.”

Vegon did. Good. Xil turned toward Jandar. Too many bones. The creature was larger than the others they had fought. Not the great assembled thing from before. But not one body either. Two torsos twisted together. Four arms. A skull set sideways over another. Jandar’s rapier was trapped beneath him. He punched the creature in the jaw. Xil stared for half a second. Jandar looked at him.

“Do something clerical!” Jandar shouted.

Reasonable. Xil raised his holy symbol. Power answered. Usually the divine current arrived like water finding a channel. This time it struck resistance. The corruption pressed against him. He pushed. Light burst from his palm—not clean white. Silver edged in gray. It hit the bone creature. The thing recoiled. Jandar rolled free. Deacon fired again. Zook struck low. The creature collapsed. Jandar got to his feet.

“I had it handled,” Jandar said.

“No,” Deacon said.

Jandar pointed at him.

“I was working on a plan,” Jandar said.

“You were punching a skeleton,” Deacon replied.

“It was unexpected.”

Something cracked behind them. The fourth body moved—not the corpse itself. Bones beneath it. The dead Silver Crown member lifted from the floor as something unfolded underneath him. Xil saw the rib still through his body. It had not killed him and remained there. It belonged to the creature now carrying him.

“No,” Xil said.

He did not know whether he meant the creature, the corpse, or the world. The thing rose. The dead man hung from its back. His arm swung loose. The Silver Crown mark on his wrist glowed faintly. Jandar stopped smiling.

“Get him off it,” Jandar said.

Deacon fired. The bolt struck the creature’s leg. Zook moved behind it. Vegon lifted one hand. Xil grabbed his wrist. Vegon turned sharply.

“No,” Xil said.

“I can—” Vegon began.

“No,” Xil repeated.

The wizard’s face tightened. He knew Xil was right. That did not mean he liked it. The bone creature lunged. Xil released Vegon and stepped forward. Its claw struck his shield. Pain ran through his shoulder. He held. Deacon moved to the side. Jandar saw it. He moved opposite. Without a word. The creature turned toward Jandar. Deacon fired. The bolt struck its exposed spine. Jandar stepped in. His rapier did not stab.

He hooked the guard beneath a loose arm and wrenched. Bone cracked. Zook struck the knee. The creature fell. Xil brought his holy symbol down toward it. Power gathered. The corruption met him again. Harder. For a heartbeat nothing happened. Then something changed—not in the magic. In Xil. He stopped forcing it. He let the prayer become smaller. Simpler—not destruction. Release. The light came. Soft at first. Then brilliant. The creature convulsed. Every bone separated—not shattered. Released.

They fell apart in a clattering wave. The dead Silver Crown member hit the ground. Xil caught him before his head struck stone. For a moment he held a stranger in his arms. A man who had carried the same mark. A man sent on the same road. A man who had probably stood in some room not unlike the one in Windmarch and been told that the Order trusted him. Xil lowered him carefully. Jandar came beside him.

“Can you—” Jandar began.

“No,” Xil said.

Xil did not need to check. There were wounds magic could repair. There were moments even divine power could sometimes reach back toward. This was not one. Too long. Too much gone. Jandar nodded. He did not ask again. Then Zook shouted.

“More!” Zook shouted.

The far wall opened—not a door. A break in the stone hidden behind bones. Shapes moved through it. Three.

Five.

Seven. Small skeletal creatures. Then two gnolls behind them. Living. That changed the room. Deacon saw them. Xil saw Deacon see them. The older man’s expression vanished—not anger. Something colder. One gnoll barked an order. The bone creatures rushed. Deacon shot the gnoll. Instantly. No hesitation. The bolt struck its shoulder. It staggered back. The second gnoll pushed forward. Jandar intercepted the first skeletal thing. Zook disappeared into the chaos. Vegon backed toward the wall, hands empty.

Xil moved toward the center. Too many. The first skeleton struck Jandar’s blade aside. Another attacked from his left. Deacon fired past him. The creature broke apart. Jandar glanced back.

“Better,” Jandar said.

Deacon reloaded.

“Move,” Deacon said.

Jandar moved. A bolt passed through the space where he had been. It hit the wounded gnoll. The creature collapsed. The second gnoll roared and charged. Deacon froze. Only for an instant. But Xil saw it. Jandar did too. The gnoll swung a heavy blade. Deacon blocked badly. The weapon struck his shoulder and knocked him sideways. Jandar lunged. His rapier pierced the gnoll’s side. The creature turned on him. Bad choice. Deacon recovered. He fired from less than ten feet away.

The bolt entered beneath the gnoll’s jaw. It fell. Jandar looked at him.

“You’re welcome,” Jandar said.

Deacon stared.

“For what?” Deacon asked.

“Buying you time,” Jandar replied.

“I shot it,” Deacon said.

“After I heroically distracted it,” Jandar said.

“You stabbed it in the back,” Deacon replied.

“Heroically.”

Bone claws closed around Jandar’s coat. Xil shouted. Too late. The creature pulled Jandar backward. Another struck from the side. The blow caught him beneath the ribs. Jandar gasped. The rapier fell. A second claw drove into his chest. Xil saw blood. Too much. Jandar hit the ground. Deacon shouted his name. Zook turned. The room narrowed around Xil—not literally. But everything unnecessary disappeared.

Bone.

Noise.

Gnolls.

Magic. Only Jandar remained. Still moving. Barely. Xil reached him. A skeleton attacked. Xil blocked without looking and felt the strike jar his arm. He hit it with the edge of his shield.

“Deacon!” Xil shouted.

A bolt shattered the creature’s skull. Xil dropped beside Jandar. Blood spread beneath him. Jandar looked up. His eyes were unfocused.

“You look concerned,” Jandar said.

“Be quiet,” Xil replied.

“That bad?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

The humor disappeared. That frightened Xil more than the blood. He placed both hands over the wound. Warmth gathered. The corruption hit—not now. Xil closed his eyes. He had healed wounds under worse circumstances. Arrows. Blades. Poison. Burns. He understood torn flesh. Broken bone. Blood leaving the body. He did not understand the thing interfering with the divine current. He did not need to—not yet. Jandar’s pulse weakened beneath his fingers. Xil prayed. The first words were formal. Old words.

Words he had learned long before he ever saw the surface. They failed—not completely. The power came, then bent away. Jandar inhaled sharply. Blood continued between Xil’s fingers.

“No.”

He said it aloud. The prayer changed. No ritual. No carefully learned structure. No perfect words. Only refusal. This man was irritating. Reckless. Loud. He had known him for almost no time at all. That did not matter. Xil had spent enough years watching people disappear. Behind walls. Into darkness. Into systems larger than themselves. He would not watch another one leave while his hands were already on him. The magic surged. The corruption struck back. Xil pushed through it.

Pain burned along both arms. The silver mark beneath his sleeve flared. Jandar’s did too. For one impossible instant, Xil felt the others—not thoughts—not souls. Presence. Five points in the dark. His own. Jandar. Deacon. Zook. Vegon. The sensation vanished almost immediately. But the power remained. Warmth flooded Jandar’s chest. The bleeding slowed. Stopped. The wound closed enough to hold. Jandar sucked in a deep breath. His eyes opened fully. Xil nearly fell over him.

“That,” Jandar whispered, “was unpleasant.”

Xil laughed. He had not intended to. One short breath of sound. Jandar stared.

“You can do that?” Jandar asked.

“Apparently,” Xil said.

A skeleton lunged toward them. Xil turned. Vegon hit it with a rock. Everyone stared. Including Vegon.

“What?” Vegon said.

The skeleton recovered. Deacon shot it.

“Good spell,” Jandar said weakly.

Vegon looked offended.

“I was improvising,” Vegon said.

“You’re learning,” Jandar replied.

Zook shouted from across the room.

“Still fighting!” Zook shouted.

Right. Xil stood. Jandar tried to. Xil pushed him back down.

“No,” Xil said.

“I can fight,” Jandar protested.

“No,” Xil repeated.

“I have a sword.”

“You dropped it.”

Jandar looked around.

“Oh.”

Xil moved away before he could continue. Three bone creatures remained. Zook fought one near the wall. Deacon kept another away from Vegon. The last turned toward Xil. He met it head-on. Shield. Light.

Bone.

The fight became simple—not easy. Simple. Protect the living. Destroy what threatened them. Nothing else mattered. Xil struck the creature with divine force. It broke. Zook finished his. Deacon’s bolt destroyed the last one. Then there was only breathing. Five living people. Four dead members of the Order. Two dead gnolls. And bones everywhere. Xil turned immediately toward Jandar. He was sitting up. Of course he was.

“Stay down,” Xil said.

“I am sitting.”

“Lie down.”

“That feels excessive.”

Deacon walked over.

“Do what he says,” Deacon said.

Jandar looked at him.

“You’ve become very controlling,” Jandar said.

“You almost died,” Deacon replied.

Jandar glanced at the blood beneath him.

“Yes.”

For once, he had nothing else. Xil checked the wound. Closed. Mostly. The healing had stabilized him—not restored him. He would hurt for days. Good. Pain might teach him caution. Xil doubted it. Vegon came closer.

“What did you do?” Vegon asked.

Xil looked up.

“Healed him,” Xil said.

“No,” Vegon said.

Vegon crouched.

“The spell,” Vegon clarified.

Xil knew what he meant.

“I don’t know,” Xil said.

“That was stronger than before,” Vegon said.

“Yes.”

“The corruption changed,” Vegon added.

Xil stared at his hands.

“Yes.”

“How?” Vegon asked.

“I don’t know,” Xil replied.

Jandar groaned.

“Not now,” Jandar said.

Vegon ignored him.

“Did you feel the marks?” Vegon asked.

Xil looked sharply at him. Vegon’s face changed.

“You did.”

“You felt them too?” Xil asked.

“No.”

Vegon glanced toward the five of them.

“But something happened,” Vegon said.

Xil said nothing. He did not understand it. And unlike Vegon, he did not feel compelled to immediately take it apart. Some things could remain mysteries until everyone stopped bleeding. Deacon searched the chamber. Zook joined him. They found no more living creatures. No prisoners. No hidden survivors. Only equipment. Silver Crown gear. Personal effects. Five names. Corren. Sel. Marek. Davan. Elira. Five people who had come to Arrowdale before them. Xil repeated the names silently. That mattered.

The dead should not become numbers simply because there were too many. Jandar eventually stood despite instructions. Xil allowed it only because stopping him would have required injuring him again. They searched the back passage. It did not lead deeper. It climbed toward a narrow crack opening onto the hillside. Gnoll tracks passed through it. Recent. The creatures had another entrance. That explained some of the cave—not all of it. The bone creatures remained unexplained. So did the blue crystal.

So did the wrongness in the magic. But they had found the patrol. That had been their task—not the answer anyone wanted. Still an answer. They returned for Corren. No one suggested leaving him. Deacon and Jandar carried him between them. Jandar should not have been lifting anything. Xil told him so. Jandar ignored him. Naturally. They brought Corren back to the chamber where the other four waited. Then the five living members of the Order stood over the five dead.

Xil looked at them. The symmetry felt cruel. Five had come before. Five had followed. For a moment he imagined another patrol entering the cave weeks from now and finding ten bodies. Then another five. The Order sending people into darkness until eventually someone returned with an explanation. He disliked the thought. Jandar stood beside him, pale beneath the dirt. Deacon held the five Silver Crown identifiers. Zook had removed his cap. Vegon stared at the bodies. No one spoke.

Xil looked at the marks. His own was still warm. The dead marks had faded almost completely. Jandar broke the silence.

“We’re not leaving them here,” Jandar said.

Deacon nodded.

“No,” Deacon agreed.

Vegon looked toward the passage.

“Moving five bodies through the cave will take time,” Vegon said.

“Then it takes time,” Jandar replied.

Jandar’s voice was quiet. No joke. No performance. Xil looked at him. Interesting. Deacon said, “We can bring them to the entrance. Go back to Arrowdale for help.” Zook nodded.

“Safer than carrying them down the hillside ourselves,” Zook said.

Vegon looked at Jandar.

“You shouldn’t carry anyone,” Vegon told Jandar.

Jandar sighed.

“I have been healed.”

“You were almost dead.”

“Very briefly.”

Xil said, “You will carry nothing.” Jandar looked at him.

“You’re all enjoying this,” Jandar said.

“No.”

Xil considered.

“Perhaps a little,” Xil added.

Jandar stared. Then smiled.

“There he is,” Jandar said.

They moved the bodies one at a time. Slowly. The cave seemed different on the way out—not safer. Known. There was a difference. They passed the blue light in the wall. Vegon stopped. Only for a heartbeat. Xil watched him. Vegon looked at the crystal. Then continued walking. That might have been the most impressive thing Xil had seen him do. They passed the chamber of assembled bones. The broken creatures remained scattered across the floor. No movement. Good.

Eventually daylight appeared. Jandar looked at it like a religious revelation.

“I have never said anything unkind about the sun,” Jandar said.

Deacon grunted.

“Today,” Deacon said.

“Historical records before today are unreliable,” Jandar replied.

They carried the last body to the cave mouth. Afternoon light covered the hillside. Wind moved through the grass. Birds called in the trees. Ordinary sounds. Xil had not realized how much he missed them. The five bodies lay beneath cloaks near the entrance. Deacon stood over them.

“We go back to Arrowdale,” Deacon said.

Zook looked toward the surrounding woods.

“Gnoll tracks head north and east,” Zook said.

“We report first,” Deacon replied.

Deacon looked at him.

“Then we decide.”

Zook nodded. Jandar lowered himself onto a rock. Carefully. Xil noticed. Jandar noticed him noticing.

“I’m sitting.”

“Good.”

“Do not become accustomed to this.”

Xil sat beside him. For several moments they watched the others. Vegon stood in sunlight examining his hand. Zook studied the tree line. Deacon was already planning the route back. Jandar said, “I really was dying.”

“Yes,” Xil said.

“How close?” Jandar asked.

Xil considered lying.

“Very,” Xil replied.

Jandar nodded. No humor. Then:

“Thank you,” Jandar said.

Xil looked at him. Simple words. No grin. No exaggeration.

“You’re welcome,” Xil replied.

Jandar rubbed the Silver Crown mark beneath his sleeve.

“Did you feel that?” Jandar asked.

Xil remained still.

“The mark.”

“Yes.”

“So did I.”

Xil turned toward him. Jandar looked uncomfortable. That was rare enough to be worth attention.

“It was only a moment,” Jandar said. “I thought I knew where everyone was.”

Xil said nothing.

“Not saw them. Not exactly.”

“I know.”

Jandar looked at him.

“You felt it too,” Jandar said.

“Yes.”

“What does it mean?”

Xil looked toward the four others. Deacon. Zook. Vegon. Jandar beside him. Five marks. Five strangers.

“I don’t know,” Xil said.

Jandar groaned. Xil allowed himself a small smile. By late afternoon, they started back toward Arrowdale. They left the bodies only long enough to bring help. Zook led. Deacon followed. Vegon walked near the center. Jandar moved more slowly than before. Xil stayed beside him. Jandar noticed after a while.

“You don’t need to guard me,” Jandar said.

“I know.”

“Then why are you?”

Xil looked ahead.

“Perhaps I enjoy controlling you,” Xil said.

Jandar laughed. Then grabbed his ribs. Xil smiled. The village came into sight before sunset. People saw them descending from the hills. Five figures. Only five. Mara emerged from the inn. Others followed. The woman whose son was missing came to her doorway. She looked behind them. Searching. Xil understood what she hoped to see. They had found the missing patrol. They had not found her son. That failure waited for them at the bottom of the hill. Jandar’s humor faded.

Deacon straightened. Zook lowered his eyes. Vegon looked toward the northern hills. Xil looked at the people of Arrowdale. They had gone into the dark looking for five. They had found them.

Dead.

And they had come back with more questions than they had carried in. Behind them, somewhere inside the hill, blue light still pulsed behind stone. Gnolls were moving north. Magic behaved incorrectly. Bones walked. Whatever had happened to the Silver Crown patrol was not the end of anything. Xil knew that now. The five of them entered Arrowdale together. No one had to tell them to stay close.