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“Warchief,” she says, “a human has entered camp and demands to see you. He says he is Duke Strand, the lord of these lands.”
“Antony is here?” I ask, perplexed.
Verrick just glowers, his eyes never leaving Owen. “Tell him to wait. An interrogation is taking place.”
She places her fists over her heart and leaves the tent. All of our attention goes back to the quivering human man before us.
“Owen,” Bronwyn says, “just tell them! I know you must have been coerced into this plot if you are involved. Just tell them so that we may save our people!”
Owen opens his mouth, but Verrick snorts, gesturing to one of his orcs who offers a bag. “This was found among his things as well,” Verrick says, taking the bag and tossing it to the ground. It bursts open to show it’s filled with gold coins, far more than a peasant farmer like Owen could make in a year.
“Don’t let him try to say that he did this for any cause other than his own gain. The evidence speaks for itself.”
“Please!” pleads Owen, finally speaking up. “I can’t tell you. It is impossible! They made me swear a vow . . .”
“Who, Owen?” Bronwyn asks, unshed tears in her eyes, “Who did you make a vow with to sell out your own people?”
“It’s not like that! But I can’t give you any information. If I try to tell you anything then I—”
Suddenly, the man’s voice cuts off and he begins shaking, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Pink froth spills from his lips and blood trickles from his nose. Bronwyn rears back. “What’s happening?”
“Hex!” I exclaim. “Quick, we need a healer! And Hoggins!”
Verrick barks an order, and orcs move to follow our commands, but our reaction seems too late. The human man convulses, falling to the ground, blood pooling under his head.I dive forward, reaching to right him, to stop his shaking, to dosomething, but powerful arms hold me back.
“No!” snaps Verrick, holding me in his arms, “Do not touch him! The curse could travel to you.”
There is nothing to do but watch in abject horror as the man in front of us twitches two more times before going still. A moment later, a healer bursts into the room, wearing a long robe and gloves, but Owen is already gone. Hoggins enters a moment later and gasps when he surveys the scene. Bronwyn begins to weep, her sobs rending the air as Quill holds onto her, stopping her from collapsing on the ground.
The healer examines the body and shakes his head. “This hex is strong, one of the strongest I’ve ever seen. The body needs to be burned immediately or he’ll become one of the undead.”
“Can you find the origin of the curse?”
The healer shakes his head. “I am no mage or witch.”
“Hoggins?” I ask, looking to the Royal Mage.
The older man crouches down. He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and uses the fabric to move the dead man’s head this way and that, careful not to touch the body with his bare skin. Finally he says, “This is dark magic; witchcraft. I would say that it is a Midnight Oath, something that, if broken, instantly punishes the oathbreaker.”
“But he hadn’t even said anything! He was only telling us hecouldn’ttell us anything!” sobs Bronwyn. Quill is holding her in his arms as she continues to weep.
“That may or may not be true,” Hoggins replies. “We don’t know the exact wording of the oath. Maybe even by telling you of the vow, he broke it. But I can tell you that this type of curse can also be triggered remotely by someone with the activating word. So it might have been nothing he said.”
“How would they even know to trigger it?” I ask, “How did they know we were interrogating him?”
“There is a spy in our midst,” Verrick says grimly. “Someone in the camp must have overheard him and stopped his mouth before he could reveal what he knew. Guards!”
Two orcs come into the tent. “Round up anyone that was around this tent, within fifteen feet. They all need to be interrogated. One of them is a spy for our enemy.”
He then turns back to the healer and says, “Gather whatever orcs you need to build a pyre and get this body out of my tent. Now.”
There’s a flurry of movement as everyone rushes to do what they were ordered. Hoggins and the healer bow, leaving the tent. I turn to Verrick. “Will your orcs really be able to get everyone? What if they didn’t see someone?”
“They will get everyone,” Verrick says grimly. “They will hunt them by scent.”
He then gives me a look I cannot read and says, “You know the human noble that has arrived at the camp?”
“Antony?” I ask confused, “Yes, of course. We were children together and have interacted on the Council of Thirteen. Though he has been ill lately and hasn’t been in the most recent sessions.”
