Chapter one.
Brulk rubbed the notch on his left ear between his thumb and forefinger. "Why is it" He muttered, and with some distaste, "That dead folk don't stay in the dirt?" His shoulders were hunched further than usual as he squatted against the crumbling walls of Ost Haer. Boggy earth, crumbling stairs and water full of all kinds of sludge lay between him and his task. Khelem Dur, His ever suffering second, nudged the haft of his spear into Brulk's leg. "We sitting here all day?" He asked in a hushed whisper.
Brulk looked back over his shoulder, returning his hand to his blade which stuck up from the soggy earth. Gremk the bold, the crew's biggest coward, Mulk, a boy-sized man whose jerkin burst his daggers of all shapes and sizes, nestled safely a few metres back in the tree line. There was no sign of Half-teeth, the oldest in the crew, but that was usually the case. The man was so old he claims time itself had forgotten his name, he was bitter enough about it too. More 'n likely, figured Brulk, was that the old fool had forgotten it himself and hadn't the heart to admit it.
"Well, what's the call?" Khelem nudged him again, and Brulk shook his head. "We get Kust out of there, as our chief told us." Brulk nodded his head again, content in his decision. "But Kust went to the dirt four months past.. What good is--.."
"Don't y'think I know that? Dammit. I saw the poor lout get his head caved by that Eglain fella'." Brulk grimaced. He'd buried more than a few of his crew in his years, but those who said it got easier with time were wrong. Or maybe his father had been right when he was a boy, maybe he was soft in his head. Doesn't matter now, he thought, Kust'll be coming back from the dirt whether his head is in one peice or not.
Half-teeth had caught up, panting and his held himself up around Gremk's shivering shoulders. Brulk held out his palm to the trio, and they soon edged over towards him. "Right, Temair wants us going in there." He thumbed back at the ruined battlements of Ost Haer. "And we'll be dragging our old friend Kust back out." He looked around to see any sign of objection, and saw only Half-teeth's wrinkled forehead struggling out a thought. "But.. Isn't he back in the dir--.." Khelem butted in before the old man could finish. "Teeth, you got the shovels?" The old man nodded his head, still catching his breath as he turned to show three short-hafted shovels sticking out of his long pack. "Right y'are, chief." squeeked Gremk, that ever worried twinkle in his eyes sparkling more than ever.
"We expecting company?" asked Mulk, the boyish looking man had a voice which couldn't suit his appearance any less. Deep and heavy, much like Brulk imagined a troll speaking if it could speak their tongue. Khelem shook his head, but Brulk gave his lumbering shoulders his usual shrug. "I never recieved invite to any faire, if thats what yer' asking." Gremk gave a nervous giggle, and the others a hushed laugh. Brulk knew it wasn't funny, but he figured a bit of humour would do them good before they go digging up old friends. "But it's fair to expect anything out here, so keep on yer' toes." Mulk nodded, stroking his hairless chin with a blade.
Sun was fading, and the sky was a dark shade of red. A bad omen some would say, a sign of blood and death. Brulk figured it was about right, after all, as whoever thought digging up an old friend was something do on a bright summer was.. Well, not right
"Right." Brulk barked, maybe alittle louder than he intended, but a chief should be loud he figured. "Up and at 'em. Mulk, take The Bold with you and get some eyes up ahead." He prodded two fingers at what looked to be the remains of a watch-tower. "Rest o' us are heading down the straight." Mulk gave Gremk a irksome glance, but nodded. "Any empty heads?" asked Khelem, tightening the straps around his round shield. "Good. Get to it."
Mulk slapped the flat of one of his many blades against Gremk's javelin, and got a whimper for his efforts. "Come on, soft lad." The two scurried off, leaving Brulk, Khelem and Half-teeth to the fool's way in. "Quiet as a mouse, Teeth, yeah?" muttered Brulk. The old man jerked his mouth back to scoff, thought it a bad idea, and clumbsily nodded instead. "Perfect.." Groaned Khelem, pulling a javelin from it's quiver.
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Brulk didn't want to go first, he had to clench his fist to stop it from shaking. Made him look fierce and determined, atleast that's what he told himself. Khelem was at his back, and Half-teeth was doing a decent job of keeping the pace. His old knee's didnt creak half bad in the clingy warmth of the bogs. "Y'remember where he's burried, chief?" muttered Khelem. Brulk scowled, then scowled against as a half-rotten rat struggled to float by his feet. "Course I do. Said the words myself, didn't I?" and by Naruhel he'd hated every second of it. Summing up a man's life in a handful of poorly chosen words, atleast Kust had the good manners to die in his youth so Brulk hadn't been left worrying he'd miss out something important. Brulk shook his head, nudging the remaining lumps of rat of his path with the bottom of his shield.
"Why'd the lad get burried way out here again?" Uttered Half-teeth, Brulk hadn't made his mind up whether the old man was complaining, or his memory had failed him once again. "You carried the shovel yourself, Teeth." grunted Khelem, the crumbling chunk of rat had worked it's way back towards them and was swatting around between his legs. "I know.. But I always carry the shovels.." grumbled Teeth, shrugging his pack back onto his shoulders. "We burried him here." snarled Brulk, stopping in his tracks. "Because Dunlang had the good sense to order it before we ended up with swamp fever from his bloated body." The air grew thin, and Brulk felt a heavy hand rest on his shoulders. Khelem pulled his back alittle. "Teeth's old, lad. Seen so many lads sent back to the dirt, hard for him to remember 'em all, right Teeth?" The old man nodded, and Brulk only then realised how close he'd gotten to the old man. Half-teeth's legs had closed up, right and stiff, and crushed the lump of rat against his knee. It's nose and an eye hung there, reluctant to break away with the rest of it's corpse. "Right y'are, Teeth. No worries." he grunted, pushing further foward through boggy water. "Not far no--.."
"Creoth!" A voice from the east, from the watch-tower. "Shit." A voice from nearby, from his own mouth. "Move, quick."
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