Jazhara nodded. “‘Witchcraft’ does not exist. Either someone is a natural healer, and uses true magic, or simply knows the medicinal value of certain herbs and roots. ‘Witchcraft’ is an ignorant belief.”
“You’re right, of course,” agreed Toddy. “The old woman has helped some of the townsfolk with poultices and brews in the past, and has been kind to most people who ask for help, but you know how people are: with the troubles now, they’ve come to fear what they don’t understand. She lives up near the promontory above Widow’s Point, if you’d care to speak with her yourself.” He scratched his head, and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I know she’s not involved with these horrors, but she may know something that will help you decide if our troubles are a danger to your mission for the Prince.”
“Have you reported these troubles to the Prince?” asked James.
“Only to that patrol that went through here a few days ago, and they seemed intent upon another mission. Alan, the Prince’s factor in the area, was due here last week, but he never showed up. That happens from time to time if he’s on special business for the Crown. I was thinking of sending a boy with a message south, but no parent is willing to risk a child on the road . . . given the horrors we’ve seen.”
“How did they begin?” asked James.
“I wish I knew,” answered the mayor. “One day things were as they always were, the next . . . It began over a month ago. A woodcutter and his family who live a few miles to the east of the village disappeared. We don’t know when exactly, but the woodcutter missed his usual delivery of wood for the village, so we began to worry. Six men went to his shack the next day, but only two returned.”
“What did the two who returned tell you?” asked an alarmed Kendaric.
“Nathan and Malcolm? Malcolm, Lims-Kragma guide him, was killed last night by . . . whatever creature is responsible for this terrible situation. Nathan boarded himself up in his house and hasn’t come out since. He has my stable-boy bring him food every day.”
“Will he speak with us?” asked James.
“You can try. His house is less than a ten-minute walk from here. I would wait until the morning, though, sir, as he will almost certainly refuse to speak to anyone after dark.” Pointing to the solitary drinker in the corner, Toddy said, “Lyle over there was a close friend of Malcolm.” Leaning toward them, he added, “But I’d weigh his words carefully, his love of the spirits” - he made a drinking motion - “often clouds his judgment.”
James stood up and Jazhara followed. Kendaric started to rise, but Solon reached out with one of his massive hands, firmly gripped the guildsman’s arm, and pushed him back into his seat, shaking his head gently. Then the cleric rose and followed James and Jazhara. Kendaric opened his mouth to object, but Solon silenced him merely by pointing at the man’s ale, indicating that he should continue to drink.
James, Jazhara, and Solon crossed to where the solitary figure sat staring into an empty mug. “Buy you a drink?” asked James.
The man looked up and said, “Never one to say no to that, stranger.”
James motioned for Toddy to bring over a fresh tankard of ale, and when it was placed before the man, James pulled out a chair and sat down. “Your name is Lyle?”
“That’s me,” the man agreed.
“I understand you’re friends with one of the men who survived some sort of attack here.”
“Malcolm, he was my friend,” agreed the man. “Died last night.” He hoisted the ale flagon and said, “To Malcolm!” Then he drained it.
James waved for another and when it was placed before him, Lyle asked, “What do you want?”
“We want information,” James replied.
“Tell us about this ‘witch,’” added Jazhara.
Lyle said, “Everyone thinks she’s in league with dark powers, but I don’t believe it! She’s a kind old woman. You can go see for yourself. Take the trail to the point and when it cuts down to the beach, stay on the small path up to the point. You’ll find her in her hut most times when she’s not out gathering herbs.” He sighed deeply. “No, the real source of this evil is something else.”
“What?” asked James.
Lowering his voice, Lyle said, “Blood-drinkers.”
James’s gaze narrowed and he looked at Jazhara before returning his attention to Lyle and repeating, “Blood-drinkers?”
“Night creatures. The dead returned to life.”
Jazhara gasped. “Vampires!”
James looked at her. “Vampires?”
“Creatures of legend. Created by the foulest necromancy,” she replied.
Remembering the dead bodies being arrayed by the goblins and the creatures in the sewers of Krondor, James said, “We’ve encountered a lot of that lately.”
Jazhara said, “They drink the blood of the living to slake their unholy thirst, and those whose blood they take rise to join their number.”
James dosed his eyes for a moment, then said, “And I suppose because they’re already dead, they’re very difficult to kill again?”