Guild Of Zeroes

Chapter 9

The forest faded to farmland and I called out for everyone to stop. Something was wrong.

"Do you smell anything?" I asked.

Quin put one hand on their sword and took a deep breath. Their breath rasped through the dozen small holes in the front of their helmet and they offered me a shrug as an answer. "Hard enough for me to breathe right now. Let alone smell anything."

"Horse shit," said Mouse. "All I smell is horse shit."

I pulled my bow from its quiver and slipped an arrow onto the string. Quin followed my lead and liberated a long handled axe that had been lashed to the side of their horse.

"What's wrong?" they asked.

"They should be baking," I said. I took a few cautious steps towards the first house, a simple one room home on the edge of the field. A dry twig crunched under foot, loud as a crash of thunder. Everything was too quiet.

"Is that such a big problem?" asked Mouse. "Maybe they're just taking a lazy day."

I put a hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh.

Mouse furrowed his brow. "Why is that so funny?"

I kept stalking forward, eyes scanning the shadows, shoulders tense, heart hammering in my ears. "You sweet summer princeling," I said. "A village like this doesn't really get 'lazy days'. There's always baking to do or the people don't get to eat."

Quin waved for us to be quiet and strode up to the house. They knocked on the door. It swung open on its own. Quin raised their axe, I drew my bowstring back to my cheek, and Mouse let out a pained squeak and hid behind me. Quin barreled through the doorway, axe high and ready to split the skull of anything inside that wasn't a villager.

"It's empty," they called out.

I let the tension off of my bow and returned it and the arrow to my quiver. "What do you mean empty?"

Quin stepped out and took off their helmet, wiping their brow with a rag. "See for yourself. Empty. Whole damn village feels empty." They cocked their to one side, scowling. "Can't even hear the little ones running around the streets. They're usually raising some flavour of hell at this hour aren't they?"

Quin was right. Morning's in the village were kings of chaos. There were always either children running rampant in the streets or underfoot in the fields, or older kids complaining about chores, teens sleeping late and parents yelling them out of bed. Today there was only cold, lonely silence.

I stepped into the house. The farmers looked like they had picked up and left in the middle of supper. The table was still set with bowls of fresh tomatoes and peppers, corn flatbread, and cheese. The meal was half eaten and a clay cup of water was knocked over. I touched the table. The spill was dry. Kneeling by the hearth, I held my hand over the coals in the fireplace. Ice cold. Whatever had happened here, had happened hours ago.

Quin knelt next to me. "No blood. No bodies. It's like they get sick of their food and left."

Mouse stepped in and leaned against the doorframe. "Is that an option? Maybe something came up that they had to deal with, or run from?"

I stood and led our group back outdoors. "Maybe. We should check the other houses."

It was the same story in the other farmsteads surrounding the town square. Meals abandoned. Toys scattered the floors. Tools were left to rust in the fields. And through it all was that heavy, frozen silence filled the air. There were no birds, no animals, not even the buzz of a bee. I couldn't put up with that much nothing.