Dawn broke, and with it came the oppressive desert heat. Yet for the men of the column, the sun’s harsh rays were a welcome relief from the terrors of the previous night. Though another group of skeletons had not assaulted the caravan’s wagons directly, the rain of arrows had been relentless. The sides of the carts were covered in arrows and more than a few mercenaries lay in the open, spiked like hedgehogs thanks to the infallible accuracy of their undead foes. Yet, the skeletal archers had faded with the dawn, taking their arrows with them, and the caravan quickly worked to get moving once more. Not knowing the speed at which their enemies could march, Ferdonio had ordered that the caravan rolled as quickly as possible. The dead were left where they lay, though not before a few of the more scruple less members of the group rifled through their pockets for valuables. Sir Simon watched the scene in disgust as Brynn sat beside him on the sand, chewing on a piece of leathery jerky that he had somehow scrounged from one of his belt pouches.

“Disgusting wretches,” said Sir Simon, making no effort to hide the disdain in his voice, “this blatant thievery is the very reason we are stuck as we are.” Brynn nodded, as his mouth was too occupied with the tough old jerky to reply. “And I tell you, friend Brynn,” Sir Simon continued, rubbing his forehead wearily, “it’s whatever is in that damn box that is causing those foul undead to attack. They may be mindless but the foul intelligence that animates them is certainly not.” Brynn finally swallowed his jerky with a forced gulp.

“This damn stuff, nearly as deadly as the bloody skeletons. But ya are right laddie, Ferdonio’s got something in that there box and it’s put us all in it up to our bloody necks so it has. I’d sorely like to know what I’m sticking me neck out for, if ya know what I’m meanin’ Simon.” The knight nodded his agreement.

“Then we shall find out, master Brynn,” said the knight firmly, as he rose from the ground and gripped the hilt of his blade, “then we shall find out right now.” Brynn let out a sigh and stood up to follow the knight as he strode down the hill towards Francesco Ferdonio.

            Ferdonio stood atop the chest wagon, shouting orders at the men around him as the mercenaries packed up their remaining gear. Paulus tugged at his pantaloons, causing him to turn and match the gaze of the glaring Bretonnian knight, who advanced towards him with anger in his eyes.

“The chest mercenary,” said Sir Simon, his voice menacing, as if he was keeping his anger barely contained, “what is in that accursed chest?”

Ferdonio grimaced at the knight’s tone. Again with the damned mercenary too. He had a name, a well-earned, well-reputed name. Impudent Bretonnian fop. “Tis treasure, Sir Simon, as I tolda you at the tomb. I cannot open it, not at least until we reacha some sorcerers in Araby.” The mercenary smiled widely, his tone almost jovial, and raised his hands disarmingly. “What has gota you so worked up that you need to knowa now huh?”

Sir Simon’s voice was like cold steel, “I do not believe you mercenary.” Ferdonio’s smile fell away, his face turning into a sneering mask.

“What did you saya knight?”

“I told you mercenary, I do not believe you. Those undead would not attack with such numbers and determination merely for the sake of a box full of trinkets. You are hiding what you know.”

“You do not trusta Francesco Ferdonio knight?” The mercenary captain hissed, “Am I not upa to your sacred standard of honor huh? Me, a ragged mercenary, I cannot understand your highbrow ethics huh? Why should you not trusta me and my word? I am one of the greatest captains in all of Luccini and you dare to question my honor? I will not have sucha treachery amongst my men!” Ferdonio’s hand drifted towards one of his many pistols.

Sir Simon’s hand strayed towards the hilt of his sword, “I am not your man, Ferdonio. I am here because my lady told me to be here, and I distrust you because I feel she would tell me you are lying. I will not ask again? What is in that chest?”

Ferdonio spat upon the ground, “I will not tella you, nor will I tolerate this!” As his hand reached openly for his pistol, a sharp dwarven shout broke the air.

“Enough manlings! Enough.” Brynn hefted his axe onto his shoulder. “In truth it doesnae matter what’s in the damn box! If those skeletons come back and we’re fightin’ amongst ourselves, they’ll slaughter us like little elf-babes! Put yer damn gun away Ferdonio, you’d lose the bloody hand before you could draw it. Ye saw the laddie here last night dinnae ye? And Simon, put the damn sword down laddie. If ya kill Ferdonio here, we’ll be up to our bloody necks in shite and none of us’ll be getting’ paid. An’ not gettin’ paid is ne’er gonna make us any friends amongst this crew, as Ferdonio there well knows.” Sir Simon nodded, sliding his hand away from the grip of his sword. Ferdonio spat on the ground in front of the wagon and took his gloved hand away from the pistol grip.

“The dwarf is right knight. I needa you and you needa me. But you challenge me about the box again, and I will have Paulus here turna you into a toad, you hear me?” The hedge wizard’s eyes flashed with a magical gleam, as if to enforce his point. Sir Simon narrowed his eyes in return.

“I will trust master Brynn this time, but know Ferdonio, you will have to answer for the deaths that this secrecy causes. There will be a reckoning.”

He turned his back on the mercenary and hedge wizard and walked back to Marcelles. Brynn grunted and turned to follow.

“You’ll seea knight!” Shouted Ferdonio after him, “you’ll seea the treasures huh! You’ll all seea the treasures men! Now geta this cart moving!” The mercenaries, who had paused to watch the tense situation unfold before them, snapped back to work, ignoring the furious glances of their captain as they set about preparing to march.

“You’re lucky he didn’t bloody shoot you laddie,” scolded Brynn, “He woulda put that damn bullet right through yer skull.”

“I would’ve killed him friend Brynn, you know as much.”

“Oh aye laddie, I dinnae doubt yer speed, but what about all the others then? The wizard? The men of the crew who are still loyal to Ferdonio? Wouldya kill them all as well?”

The knight grimaced, “If I had to yes.”

Brynn snorted derisively, “Well then laddie, we’d be standing by ourselves in front of all them skeletons and we’d only be one box richer.  Let’s wait shall we? I feel we’ll be findin’ the contents of that box soon enough, I swear upon me father’s beard.”

King Anharasphut watched the column through the magic of his Hierophant. “They are not slowing hierophant?”

The wizened old man answered, “I know my lord, but they move slow as it is. They will not make safety for days.” The Tomb King hissed.

“They are not slow enough, hierophant. We must stop them and get it back, and with it her. The living need water do they not? Tonight, you will release Ahknetan, my guardian, and you will destroy their supplies. Then, with their spirit broken, I shall lead my Ushabti and Tomb Guards to finish them, and retrieve it.”

The Hierophant bowed, “Yes my lord. I shall do as you wish and we will see the death of these interlopers.”

King Anharasphut gestured to the Hierophant and turned his back to the priest, heading to join his Ushabti that stood waiting behind the dune.

“Blood on the sand and death in the air!” He shouted, raising his mighty khopesh above his head. The Ushabti roared their unearthly approval, and in a swirl of sand, the undead disappeared into the desert.