More Blood Soaks the Soil
Spark by holyflpncows
We all sit in silence for breakfast.
Shen Po is the first to break it. “My… nightmare the other night,” he begins, “I didn’t know it then, but it was of Zyon's… death.” He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. We continue our mission to find Admiral Jin, a cloud of somber quiet clinging to us all the while. I ride next to Arslan, and after a couple days of knitting his brows and remaining quiet, he speaks with me.Shen Po shakes me awake the fourth night of travel. “Quick,” he says, “there’s a light heading our way.” I grab my weapons and head out of my tent, wary, and look to the horizon. Quickly getting larger and closer is the light Shen Po was talking about, flickering like a campfire. I tilt my head. It's not just a ball of light but as it gets closer and closer, the shape of a horse is evident. The flaming horse stops about thirty paces in front of Shen Po. It has a saddle, but no rider. Shen Po approaches the Nightmare cautiously. “Someone grab some of our horse feed,” he says while keeping his eyes on it. As Spark moves to grab the feed, the Nightmare shakes its head. Shen Po blinks. “You understand Common?” The Nightmare nods. “Is there something we can do for you?” Shen Po asks. The Nightmare trots up next to Shen Po, turning its saddle towards him. I look around at everyone else, bewildered. Shen Po tentatively grabs the reins, but it doesn’t seem to want that. After some exasperation of not understanding what the Nightmare wants, we finally spot blood on its saddle. Shen Po asks if it can lead us to its rider, which is to whom the blood belongs. It nods its head, and then walks off a short distance and goes to sleep.
We wake, break camp, mount up and let the Nightmare lead the way, heading southeast. Shortly after noon, it stops, rears, and then suddenly disappears. Our horses slow down and in front of us are several bodies lying around the field. Shen Po dismounts and approaches a nearby corpse to inspect it. I make no move to get closer. Groups of corpses lying around only bring the thought of sickness to my mind. Sure enough, Shen Po calls out, “Everyone cover your mouths!”, and Feng Da comes marching straight out of the area. I watch as Shen Po, Wen, and Arslan inspect the field. Shen Po reaches down to a figure and peels off its helmet, a few other items from the front of its body, and something from its hand. Suddenly, all the bodies on the ground jerk up to a standing position. A pool of blood from the body Shen Po was inspecting congeals and rises in a serpentine movement. “Ardenti harenae!” In a panic, I whip out my saber and move forward. I stop short, surprised at my subconscious fluid movement. Years of practice must have kicked in, kicking off some of my rust. I don’t hesitate long before I assume a defensive stance. Shen Po quickly forms a magic sigil in the air with his hands and all the risen dead turn away from him. I take a slash at one as it approaches me, but it doesn’t stop. From behind me, Feng Da throws an axe and decapitates it. My attention turns to Arslan and Wen, but as the undead flee, they crumple and become motionless. Shen Po exclaims, and I see the blood fiend reforming and Shen Po covered in a layer of blood. I make my way to him, but Arslan beats me there, stepping out of mists right near Shen Po. Wen fires a glob of light directly at the blood monster and Arslan’s sword materializes as he swings. Shen Po takes a step back, quickly motioning a sigil, and silver flames combust the blood fiend into nothingness. We clean up and take a quick breather. I examine the items Shen Po pulled off the corpse’s body. The helmet is ornate, shaped in such a way to look intimidating. The other items look similar to insignia, but nothing like any badge of office I’ve seen. Arslan cleans and strips the armor off of the body, and stops to pull a simple silver ring from its ring finger. I look away. Shen Po reads aloud a paper found on the body.
“I am dying. The Blood Plague has claimed everyone. I was not the first to be infected, but I will be the last to die. I am among the lucky to still have my wits about me; the horses told me so. Many of my men were not so fortunate. Some had it worse. They bit at throats and clawed at eyes, for the madness was pervasive. It is unreal that this is how the Horselords end. Perhaps they are better off dead. Perhaps we all are.”Everyone is silent for a minute. Well, one Horselord down, two to go.
We head southeast, the direction this group of dead riders had come from. Days pass and nothingness abounds. Same rocks. Same grass. Same persistent wind. I'm almost relieved when a large bird-like creature comes spiraling out of the sky. I'm less relieved as I realize it’s heading straight for me. I hastily dismount and focus my thoughts. “Viske!” I let out my magic in a harsh whisper. The vulture-and-human hybrid reels away from me, but quickly comes back at Arslan. Thankfully, he was ready for the attack and the monster’s beak glances off Arslan’s half plate. Spark pulls out the hourglass found in the cave to East, flips it over, runs and smacks the creature with her quarterstaff, and instantly appears back where she was as the sand runs out. Arslan and I attack, my steps light and quick, but it leaps back and our strikes fall short. The creature opens its beak and an earsplitting screech rends the air. I try to cover my ears as I hear a yell from Arslan and a grunt from someone else. The pain drives me to my knees. The beast flies over me. “No!” but the shout doesn’t make it out of my mouth. I struggle to stand, my ears still ringing. As I finally get all the way back up and turn around, I see Wen throw a bolt of silver magic at the beast. As soon as it connects, the monster vanishes, covered in silver light. More demons, like the ones with rows of teeth that appeared with the rain days ago. Just how prevalent are they out here?
It takes three more days until we see buildings appear on the horizon. As we approach, we see more and more buildings come into view. Soon, dozens of stone buildings are all around us, and nothing but the buildings. The silence is eerie and unnerving. A second look at the stonework shows a red tinge to the bricks, darker near the earth. I glance at the party, who have also noticed with worried and slightly frightened looks on their faces. Shen Po raises his gauntleted hand and after a moment of concentration says, “This place is diseased. The entire town is just… radiating disease.” We investigate the town but don’t find much. The apothecary’s building is so noxious on the inside that we can’t keep the door open. At least the town temple, dedicated to Acharya, is of interest to Feng Da. He takes a trinket, which looks like a hurricane viewed from above. I wonder if anyone in the group besides myself has seen such a terrifyingly beautiful sight.
Dusk arrives and we find the inn. Spark and Feng Da begin the watches since we don’t feel comfortable in this ghost town. Shen Po wakes me for my watch with Arslan and informs us that a red mist has settled over the town. I peek out the window, glad that we chose to sleep on the second floor. It's unnerving seeing this blood-red haze clinging to the ground and swirling in the darkness of the silent town. It almost seems to be clawing and raking at whatever it's low height can reach, pulling in on itself. I suppress a shiver and try not to look too hard at the mist for the duration of my watch. The red mist dissipates as the sun rises, but it's disappearance doesn't settle anyone's nerves about it. With slight trepidation, we head toward the last section of town we haven’t checked. A larger building appears to be a sort of town hall. Inside, there are vases full of blood-soaked dirt and stacks of paperwork nearly dripping with blood. I can’t help but be on edge, thoughts of the crawling fog filling my thoughts. By the sun’s heat, what happened here? The town hall building doesn’t hold any answers for us. We move to check the last building left; a large three-story building on the outskirts of the town. Our steps slow as we get closer and closer to the building. The windows are smashed, seemingly from the inside, and there’s blood everywhere. Blood on the glass and ground. Dried blood down the walls. The tangy scent of iron drifting on the air. The stone building itself is tainted crimson. I freeze in place when I see a bloody mass of bones and intestines lying in front of the door, remains of an arm reaching up and a mangled hand still gripping the door handle. We are all silent and still, some mouths agape. I jump a little when a soul-wrenching gurgle emerges from the pile of tissues in front of the door. Wen quickly throws an orb of fire and it incinerates what’s left of the poor person. A chill runs down my spine as we peer in through the broken windows.
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