They meet the dead

“Osric, wait,” Egelric said softly as the men came up alongside the barn, and he lay a hand on the hip of the mare who walked next to him.

Osric and the horse halted at once.

Egelric, Alwy, and Osric were taking Alwy’s mare back to the barn before heading home. It was nearly dawn, but the strange man had not been seen, and no one had been attacked, so far as anyone knew. 

Egelric did not doubt that the man was perfectly aware that they were out looking for him this night. Indeed, it was not impossible that he himself was among them, in one of the groups, since refusing to participate in the watch would have brought suspicion upon him.

Egelric had been hoping that they were dealing with a madman, who would be oblivious to their search and go out to kill again, heeding only the new moon. But it would seem that the man was more clever than this. He was rational and cunning, which made him all the more dangerous. 

It also meant that their feeling of wary security over the last month, as the valley had bathed in the light of the moon, was folly. The man could attack at any time.

“Alwy, what’s that sound?” Egelric whispered.

“I was going to ask you what’s that smell,” Alwy said. “It smells like a dead animal – dead since a long time. But that sound is the piglets I put inside to wean. They sound upset, don’t they?”

“I smell it too,” Egelric said.

“Osric, you didn’t leave no dead animals inside this barn, did you?” Alwy called in a hoarse whisper.

Osric shook his head.

The three men stood a while, listening, but the piglets soon quieted. The mare still rolled her eyes and swiveled her ears wildly in search of movement or of sounds, but Egelric stroked her flank to calm her, and she remained still.

“Let me and Alwy go in first,” Egelric whispered. “And then take her in easy, Osric.”

Alwy, who held the torch, slowly opened one of the doors and slipped inside. Egelric followed with a hand on the pommel of his sword.

The smell of rotting flesh definitely came from inside the barn. The weather had been warm, but it was difficult to believe that a dead creature of sufficient size had lain unnoticed in the barn since earlier that day – and if so, where was it now?

The piglets were all crowded into the far corner of their pen, grunting and whimpering anxiously. But otherwise the barn was empty except for its usual furnishings of hay bales and tools; the animals were all outside but for the piglets.

Osric began walking the horse through the door, but as soon as she got her head fairly inside, she squealed and tried to rear.

“Hold her, Osric!” Egelric cried, both angry and relieved that the dire silence had been broken.

But Osric could not hold her, for a moment later a shadowy form swooped down from its perch on one of the beams and knocked him to the ground.

Once the hand left her halter, the mare attempted to flee, falling back on her haunches in her hurry to scramble out of the doorway. She quickly regained her feet and galloped off down the road. 

Meanwhile Alwy held the torch out before him, petrified. Was this the man Gunnilda had seen? He understood her horror.

Egelric already had his sword drawn by the time Osric landed in the dirt. 

The strange man lifted his arms as if he were preparing to strike Osric with his talons as he rose.

Egelric roared, “Stay down!” at Osric, and the attacker turned his head to him.

The man was naked, filthy, and had open wounds. Stranger still, his skin was a sickly green color, as if he were gravely ill.

But as he came closer, Egelric began to wonder if he could believe his own senses. The man reeked of death – it was him that they had smelled from outside. Did the man lie with corpses? Was he – ? No, it was madness to think so – or, no – it was madness – it was a madman after all that they had before them: a mad and savage man who killed and who surrounded himself with death.

“Who!” the man shouted, or attempted to shout, but his voice was a ragged whisper. “Are! You!”

Egelric cringed. His breath stank of death – the man must eat carrion, he thought. But though he cringed and though he thought, still his sword went up as if of its own accord and nestled itself against the man’s neck.

“I cannot kill a man,” he thought. But his sword replied, “Remember what he did to Gewis.”

“I – know – you,” the man gasped, every breath an effort. “You’re – the father. Lift – your sword. I may not – hurt – you.”

Egelric said nothing, and his sword told him nothing – it only lay trembling against the man’s neck.

“Lift – your sword,” he repeated.

“Who are you?” Egelric asked, and his voice too was a hoarse whisper.

“Druze – the dead,” the man said with a sickly smile.

And then Egelric saw something that made him lower his sword, for all the strength had gone out of his arms: the man had pointed ears.

“Where is my son?” Egelric moaned.

Druze studied his face. “He looks – like you.”

“Have you seen him? Is he well? Oh, take me to him,” he begged. Egelric felt something running down his face, but he could not tell whether it was a tear or only his cold sweat.

“Will you – follow – me?” the elf gasped, grinning malevolently. “Go – my ways?”

“Take me to him, for God’s sake, take me to him,” Egelric whimpered. His sword hung dead and heavy from his limp arm.

“Give me – the girl!” Druze said, wheezing and snuffling as if he meant to laugh. “For a – bride!”

“No!”

Druze lifted his head and looked curiously down at him for a moment.

Egelric realized with new horror that the elf before him only seemed to breathe when he spoke.

“She will – be mine,” Druze huffed and chuckled. “I shall – call you – Father.”

“No!”

“Such fine – grand – children!” His teeth shone in his smile, and the corners of his mouth seemed to crack and glisten besides.

“No!” Egelric growled, and the sword twitched back to life in his hand.

“Delicious – daughter!”

Egelric brought the trembling sword up before the elf’s face.

Druze studied it intently.

“Can – the dead – die?”

“Where is my son?”

“Where is – my bride?”

And he turned on Egelric such an unholy sneer that the sword leapt and flashed and buried itself in his side.

The elf gasped at first, and then he fell. He lay wheezing – either laughing or dying – for a moment, and finally he lay still.

Egelric stood dazed in the light of Alwy’s torch. His knees trembled and threatened to collapse. His left hand lay over his heart, trying to calm its beating by sheer pressure against his ribs. And it was cold sweat that ran down his face and down his neck and down his back.

The sword was almost clean, and the elf did not bleed – he only oozed a bit of rust-​​colored fluid from his great wound. And the odor of death had become overpowering.

“Egelric?” Alwy whimpered after a long silence.

Egelric did not move. He only stood as he had stood, staring down at the body of the first man he had ever killed.

Then there came the sound of horses outside, and of voices, and the light of torches, and then the barn doors were opened. It was Duke Alred and his men, who had seen the bay mare fly past, and who had met Osric on the road. 

Alred crouched over the body, nearly gagging at the stench, but after one look he ordered his men outside.

“Egelric, what happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Egelric whispered.

“Alwy, bring that torch over here.” Once the face was clearly lit, he whistled. “What I thought. Egelric, that’s an elf.”

“I know.”

“I don’t understand,” Alred said, prodding the cold body with his finger. “Osric said he was attacked. What happened?”

“He attacked Osric, and I killed him. I killed him.”

“Who did? You killed whom?”

“Him. He – he has seen my son,” he said, his voice quivering into tears. “But he threatened my daughter.”

“Who, ‘him’? Egelric, talk sense! This character has been dead for at least a few days, and I want to know what happened and what he’s doing in Alwy’s barn. Out with it!”

“It was that elf, Your Grace,” Alwy offered. “He wasn’t dead just a while ago. It was Egelric what killed him – I saw him.”

“Egelric, this man has been dead for days! He is cold and half-​​rotten. For God’s sake, I know what a dead man looks like! Answer me!”

“It was him,” Osric said, standing dazed in the doorway.

“Jupiter! Have you all gone mad!”

“He said his name was Druze the Dead,” Egelric whispered.

“I should say it is! Are you telling me this corpse was standing here and talking to you just a short while ago?”

Egelric nodded.

Alred stared firmly at Egelric for a moment, but Egelric’s eyes did not fall before his. Alred sighed and shook his head. “I wish I didn’t believe you, old man. Let’s send for the priest.”