Both men sheathed their weapons, dropping their shields and removing their helmets as they reached Euronymus. Thunderclese looked horrified, a drastic contrast to the concerned yet composed Vlishgnath.
“Is he dead?!” Thunderclese’s voice trembled slightly. It was no light thing when a brother in arms died in combat, and even though the culprit had been slain, any death was too good for those creatures.
Vlishgnath waved Thunderclese away, leaning in closely to check for signs of life. After a moment he sat up. “No. He lives. But we need to get him into the church immediately. Grisbane is the best healer I know, not including clerics.”
Thunderclese nodded, and the two men moved into position to transport their injured comrade.
“Maximus!” Vlishgnath called back. “Gather up the bodies and burn them! There should be kindling in one of our saddlebags. Then load our shields and helmets with the relief supplies, and bring the cart around to the church’s back entrance. Aramus!”
Upon hearing its name, the eight-legged silver horse casually walked up to Vlishgnath, seemingly unfazed by what had transpired.
“Stay with the horses, my friend. Watch over them.”
In response, Aramus turned and walked over to the other horses, and indeed began to herd them around to the back of the church.
“Alright. I’ve got him under his shoulders, you get his legs,” Vlishgnath said to Thunderclese. “Lift.”
The two of them hoisted Euronymus up off the ground and carried him hurriedly past Maximus, who had begun dejectedly kicking the bodies of the slain demons into a pile. He tossed one of the arms he had ripped off one of the demons to join with the rest of what was to be quite a fire.
Once they reached the church, Vlishgnath knocked forcefully on the heavy wooden doors, and after a moment a small window swung open. A terrified-looking villager peered through the hole and spoke in a stammering voice.
“W-Who are you?”
Thunderclese sighed in exasperation, but Vlishgnath spoke in his calmest, most reassuring tone.
“We are with the church. We need you to let us in; we have supplies, and our friend here was injured battling the shadows that plagued your town. We need to see Grisbane.”
His tone and words had their desired effect; the man nodded enthusiastically, and in a moment they could hear the heavy wooden pillar that barred the door shut being removed. The door swung open, and they rushed to get Euronymus inside.
The man who had met them at the door called out, “Sir Grisbane! More men from the church are here!”
The figure of a man in full plate, hunched over a sickly person lying on a makeshift cot in the corner, stood up and turned around. At first, Grisbane smiled with relief, but upon noticing what the two men were carrying, his expression quickly grew worrisome again.
“What in the name of Mithos happened to him?!”
Without so much as smiling, Vlishgnath responded as they moved Euronymus over to rest on a cot that one of the less-injured villagers graciously and even enthusiastically gave up without so much as being asked. “We took care of your demon problem. Can you help him?”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then I can try. You there! Boy! Bring me some bandages and a basin of clean water!”
While Grisbane set to work, Vlishgnath moved to sit on the floor, resting against a wall with his head leaned back and his eyes closed. He drew up his right knee and laid his arm upon it as he waited.
“Sir Grisbane!” a man yelled in the distance. “There’s an enormous man at the back door! Says he’s with the church! Should I—HE’S COMING IN!”
Vlishgnath chuckled silently to himself. “It’s all right! He is with us!”
Several minutes later, Thunderclese slumped down next to Vlishgnath, having gone to assist Grisbane and sighed heavily. “Some fight, huh?”
“More of a skirmish. How is Euronymus?”
“He’ll live. May even look a bit prettier. Grisbane is getting him cleaned up, patched, and into some spare clothes. He should be resting soon.”
Vlishgnath nodded.
“What’s this about Grisbane now?” Maximus said as he joined them, pulling up a wooden stool and taking a seat in front of them. He was visibly tired, although he would never admit it.
“I was asking how Euronymus was doing,” said Vlishgnath.
“Ah, he’s a tough one. Looks like he’s been through worse.”
Thunderclese nodded knowingly, grasping his throat while sticking his tongue out and making a groaning whisper the way Euronymus would.
Grisbane approached them with a frown. “Show some respect, boy.”
Thunderclese quickly dropped his hand, his face returning to normal. “Yes, sir.”
Vlishgnath quirked a brow, looking up at Grisbane. “How long have you been holed up in the church with these survivors?”
Grisbane reached up, rubbing his gray bearded chin a moment. “We started moving people in once we got here. Things were bad, but they’ve gotten a lot worse. I can’t help but wonder if our arrival has something to do with it. They seem to be reacting to us being here, almost like some sort of defense. How many did you encounter outside?”
“Half a dozen.”
Grisbane nodded. “There were only a couple when we got here. We had no way of fighting them though, so I pulled everyone back to the church. We’ve been holding out as best we can, but you came just in time. Well done fulfilling your assignment, Thunderclese.”
Thunderclese nodded formally. “Thank you, sir.”
Vlishgnath mulled the information over for a moment before addressing Grisbane again. “Has there been any word from Baron LeFay?”
“None. I can’t even say with any certainty that he and his people are still alive, and I haven’t had the men to check on them. Sir Aureius has fallen ill ever since one of the things dove straight through him like water through a sieve.”
“The same happened to Thunderclese, though he was able to recover much quicker,” said Vlishgnath.
Grisbane looked to Thunderclese and grinned. “He’s of a hearty constitution, that’s for sure.”
“Something like this doesn’t just happen overnight though,” Vlishgnath persisted. “If Baron LeFay was made aware of this, why did he not do something about it? At the very least he could have petitioned the church for aid.”
“Hmm...you know, I hadn’t stopped to consider that,” said Grisbane. “I’ve been busy tending to wounded and calming near-hysterical villagers. I’ll ask around, see if anyone knows anything. Do me a favor and keep Maximus with you. He’ll scare people, and they’ve gone through enough.”
Vlishgnath, Thunderclese, and Maximus sat at a table, both Vlishgnath and Thunderclese carefully cleaning the black ichor of the demons from their blades. Their shields and helmets rested on the floor next to their chairs. Maximus sat on a barrel, the table almost down by his knees, with Judgment leaning against the stone wall behind him.
Grisbane appeared, reassuringly guiding one of the village women towards the table. Her expression was apprehensive, and she looked from armored man to armored man timidly as she folded her arms beneath her chest.
Vlishgnath looked upon the woman, then met Grisbane’s gaze, who motioned towards the girl with a slight nod. Vlishgnath nodded his understanding, signaling for Thunderclese