Medieval Sci-Fi - Magna Mortalitas

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1:03get ready to meet first rate talent. Just go to zippercruder.com slash zip to try Zippercruder for free. Don't forget that zippercruder.com slash zip. Finally, that zippercruder.com slash zip. Hello, I'm Wilkins, stories all the time. Vlad, you are here. Let's get into it. The summer was deep and heavy, sticky, and miserable. But were of cicadas so constant that when they finally quieted at sundown, the doctor's ears would ring for Ayers. They could smell the village of Black Hollow for miles before they actually arrived, though that wasn't strange. With no river running through the village to carry away waste, the residents of the small app was could only bury or burn their refuse, and the humid air of summer would suck in the sense, holding onto them like something precious. So the doctors expected some of the sense, the rightness of unwashed bodies, the wreak of waste, both animal and human alike, and the accrued burn of many fires, even a note of rot wouldn't be odd. People die, livestock are butchered. That smell of death was simply a side effect of living,

2:05but the doctors didn't smell a note of death. They smelled a choking wave of it rolling over and nearly suffocating them before they could even see a hint of human civilization. It was the scent of the unbalanced world, the scent of plague. Aldrich had smelled it many times before. It was the same scent that cloned to him on software a battle where the ground ran slick with blood and the moans of dying men turned out even the squawk of ravens. The scent would fill his nose, coating his tongue with its bitterness, and he would have to fight the urge to gag as he tended to his patients, most of whom would be dared by the next day. He knew it would cling to his clothes when he returned home. He would peel off his stained robe, let it fold to the floor, and leave it there to be burned. But this scent was different. This time, the death clung not just to him, but to everything. It seemed to soak the land permitting the air. Aldrich glanced at his apprentice who rode beside him, her face hidden by the hood of her robe. She was silent, as she tended to be, failed in many layers to hide the shape of her frame. No doubts waiting out every ounce of water he'd forced on her throughout the journey. His apprentice tended to get lost in her own mind. Her body, and its need,

3:06are an inconvenience that kept her from the haven of her thoughts. They rode to enormous pack horses cheap, but sturdy, each carrying supplies they might need, and a small fortune in coins and gems sewn into their saddles for they had no idea what they would find. Black hollow, according to the rumors, was a small village, remote and isolated by its position. The mountains on one side, the forest on another, and a river a days journey from its main entrance. It was perhaps no wonder that it had been afflicted, cut off from the world, and thus from news that the strange mallet is spreading through the country. He had heard of a town on the other side of the country, where, within the space of a fortnight, over half the population had perished. They'd suffered from a coughing sickness, the air filling with their body spittle, and yet no one who caught the sickness was immune to it. They all died. It was the way of these things. People caught diseases, and they died. But the report's order should heard from Baccala was strange indeed. For one, the sickness didn't spread from person to person. Aldrich had spent time in his youth at the military hospital, tending to the men injured in the wars. There, he'd witnessed how quickly a fever could sweep through the ranks,

4:07and he'd see men cough and bleed, vomiting until those stomachs were emptied. They're a lurch cracked and bleeding. No one was safe. The young though, the weak, and the strong, it didn't matter. Influenza didn't care. This sickness was not like influenza, at least if the scant information, they would give him was any indication. He'd been summoned by a desperate letter from the town barber, who wrote to him of a disease that both death and joy are equal measures. Those who fellal died in the most horrific of ways. While the survivors were suspiciously sunny and optimistic, despite their neighbors and loved ones perishing one after the other. He had expected that worst of fever, a wasting disease perhaps, something that might spread from person to person that might be stopped by quarantining the afflicted. The barber had insisted that the method of transmission between the sick made no sense. Proximity didn't matter, nor did touch. The spread was random, or so the barber said. Aldrich wasn't so sure. That was nonsensical. But he had arrived and would soon get to the bottom of the mystery. Just as the letter had said, the village was still alive and bustling as they rode into town. Aldrich frown.

5:08There were no signs of panic or fear. No empty market stalls. In fact, he was surprised to see people out and about. Had the barber misinformed him? There were calls of greeting, but Aldrich didn't dare stop. A flame of annoyance was starting to burn in his belly. If he had come all this way for nothing, he'd ring the barber's neck himself. They found the man's shop marked with the typical pole of interpined red and white. And Aldrich was surprised to see the shutters open and a light shining within. He dismounted and tied his horse to the post clancing at his apprentice, who remained seating in the saddle. Her posture was stiff and rigid, but her eyes were on him. Come then, he sighed, waiving her down. Let's see what mess we're in for. His apprentice lived from the saddle, her robe pulling around her. Her hood was still up hiding her face in shadow, but he thought her too paranoid. He conceded that it would do them no good to have a revealed that master Aldrich Fane, noted lone wolf, had taken a woman as an apprentice after refusing to take any students for decades. But Aldrich also knew that when faced with death, the identity of the Savior was of little note to deal. His apprentice could be an enormous frog in robes

6:09and if said frog offered a cure, most would accept it if their need was great enough. The man inside the shop was short and balding, wearing an apron over his clothes and clutching a cloth in one hand as he hurried around his shop, wiping off the dust. A half dozen lanterns hung from the ceiling, filling the room with one light, and the walls were lined with shelves holding bottles and jars and other tools of the barber's trade. The barber looked up at them and froze, his eyes widening. Then he seemed to force himself to relax, smoothing out his expression into one of Blake's concern. Master Fane, he said with a brief bow, oh, I'm relieved you have come. He looked around the shop and then gots toward the door. When he had ascertained that they were alone, his cheery expression fell and he implored Aldrich. Close the shutters and lock the door, if you will. We have much heaviness to discuss. Aldrich hesitated. He had no great desire to be shut up inside this dark place with this nervous little man. But the barber was clearly spooked and if Aldrich wanted to understand what was going on, he needed information. He stepped to the door and threw the lock while his apprentice closed the shutters. Then they made their way to the back of the shop

7:10where a cattle had just begun to iron. Master barber Jules, this is my apprentice, Liz Bakward, who will assist me. Aldrich said as the apprentice pulled up three cups and placed them on the table. He's quite skilled in the art of medicine so you can speak really with him. Jules poured the meager cup of tea then settled across from them with the sire. He wrapped his hands around the cup of it to warm them for the room was stuffy on its own. I apologize for the hard nature of my letter at the barber said. But I thought it best to skip with the formalities. Indeed, I would like to know why summon me here, Aldrich said. For surely your skills are sufficient for most maladies. Jules shook his head. I feel the sickness is beyond my ability. If I had known what was happening sooner, I could have done more. He took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around his cup. But as it is, I fear the town will be wiped out if no one intervenes. Aldrich lean forward and treat despite himself. Are you certain? Yes, I'm sure. The villagers are falling ill with no discernible pattern. But only some of them.

8:10The others, no matter how close they get, no matter how much involvement they have with the sick, never fall ill. In fact, they're almost shying with vitality. And yet they have a look in their eyes, something not quite right. They laugh too much. It's unnatural. Aldrich glanced at his apprentice who had said nothing so far, she gave a subtle nod. It wasn't anything they didn't know from the letter needed to see the disease if there was to be any hope though they're any currently suffering from the illness. We need to observe it. She'll swallow it, not many, yes, but the closest is someone at the tavern. I doubt he'll survive the night, but we'll have better luck seeing him than being allowed entrance into a private home. Aldrich stood and his apprentice followed suit. Then let's go, he said. They walked to the tavern, jewels leading away through the bright streets. It was just midday, but the air was already damp, the sun hazy behind the clouds. People bustled through their business, the town as alive as ever, but Aldrich noticed something off about them. Their eyes were a little too bright, they're laughter a little too loud. He'd seen it before, of course. In times of crisis,

9:11people sometimes retreated into false joy, pretending everything was well until reality crashed down upon them. But this felt different. Sonha, they seem manic in their positivity. It is Ryan C. Crest here. There was a recent social media trend which consisted of flying on a plane with no music, no movies, no entertainment, but a better trend would be going to chumbacaceno.com. It's like having a mini social casino in your pocket. Chumbacaceno has over 100 online casino style games, all absolutely free. It's the most fun you can have online and on a plane. So grab your free welcome bonus now at chumbacaceno.com. Sponsored by Chumbacaceno. No purchase necessary VGW group void for prohibited by law 21 plus terms and conditions apply. Warning, the following Zippercruder radio spot you are about to hear is going to be filled with F words. When you're hiring, we at Zippercruder know you can feel frustrated for Lauren even. Like your efforts are futile and you can spend a fortune trying to find fabulous people only to get flooded with candidates who are just fine. F**k. Fortunately, Zippercruder figured out how to fix all that.

10:14And right now, you can try Zippercruder for free at zippercruder.com slash zip. With Zippercruder, you can forget your frustrations because we find the right people for your roles fast which is our absolute favorite F word. In fact, four out of five employers who post on Zippercruder get a quality candidate within the first day. Fantastic. So whether you need to hire four, 40 or 400 people, get ready to meet first rate talent. Just go to zippercruder.com slash zip to try Zippercruder for free. Don't forget that zippercruder.com slash zip. Finally, that zippercruder.com slash zip. The tavern wasn't empty when they arrived, but only two men haunted its corners. It was the largest building in town, a three-story wooden stone structure with a thatched roof in many windows. The first floor was dominated by bar and tables while the second and third floors housed rooms for travelers to rent. He's upstairs, Jules explained. I still try to keep them separated when I can, even if it isn't needed. All habits and all that.

11:15He led them to the second floor and Aldrich could immediately hear the deleted ramblings of a madman before they even made it to the door. The voice was slow, but oddly jubilant, curing a feverish, unnatural mirth. Aldrich glanced at a liars and with a small nod, both doctors reached for the pointed masks hanging on their hips. Made of well-old leather, the mask resembled the skull of a raven, the lawns loathing beaked filled with aromatic herbs. Aldrich's was older, well-worn, but lizards was still stiff and new. Jules looked uneasy as they placed the masks on their faces, but didn't argue. Both doctors knew how uneasy they made patients, but uneasiness was better than death. Once their faces were covered, they pushed open the door to face what heavy terror was on the other side. The min. The man gasped, followed by a fit of wet coughing. The moon has silver hands and she is reaching for me. Do you see her? Do you see? Aldrich exchanged a glance with the liars. The stench of rot was thick in the small room. A single flickering candle illuminated the patient if he could still be called that. Aldrich stepped closer, tilting his head down to view the man.

12:15He had seen bodies in various states of decay, men rotting alive from gangerous wounds, but something about this this was wrong. The man was dying, and much was certain, but he did not seem to know it. Elis, ever silent, knelt beside the bed, cool fingers pressing to the man's throat. The patient moaned at the touch, giggling in that fever mad way. Your colds, the man murmured. Cold, cold. Not like the others. They burn you now. They burn. But I'm in the water, I think. It is pulling me under. His eyes flicked between them. You should come in, Crowman. The water is fine. Elis withdrew her hand and stood. His pulse is erratic, she said softly. But he shouldn't be listed enough to speak, let alone laugh. Aldric nodded. The blackened fingers. Fever but no sweats. The talk of burning. He broke off his mind-waring. And the others. The ones who don't follow. Jules wallowed hard. His eyes dotting nervously toward the door as if freed someone might be listening. Well, they, they, change he admitted.

13:18It's as if the sickness kills some, but transforms others into what? The liars asked. Jules hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper. I wish I could say, good doctor, but I cannot. It is unlike anything I've ever seen. The candle sputtered, casting airy shadows across the walls. And Aldric felt the cold creeper dread settle into his bones. They had come to black hollow to fright a plague, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper, something far stranger, had taken root in this village. What's his name? Aldric asked. Luca. Aldric's apprentice hovered nearby, Silent, watching. The old doctor sighed and opened his back, pulling out the tools of his trade. If this was truly a plague, then they would begin with what had always been done. He set a bull aside and took out his Lancet. We will bleed him, he announced. Jules flinched. Master, I would you rather he convuls until his heart fails. Aldric snapped. The body must be rebalanced. Jules pale denoted. Aldric turned back to Luca, grouping the man's arm and pressing his blade to the skin.

14:19The cut was shallow, precise, meant only to release the excess humors that, if left unchecked, could fester within. Duck blood welled up, and for a moment all was normal. Then, the apprentice moved first, pinning Luca down with surprising strength. Aldric helped struggling against bisms that racked the young man's body. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the fit ended. Luca slumped chest heaving, sweat pouring from his skin. His blood still trickled from the wound, but it was wrong. Aldric frowned, taking a closer look. It should have clotted quickly, but it didn't. It just oozed sluggishly as if reluctant to leave the body. The apprentice met his gaze. Even in the dim candlelight through the eye holes of the mask, Aldric could see the unease in no shadowed eyes. Still, they continued. The tritinctures of wormwood and fennel, howable compresses of crushed mint and sage, even feeigating the room was moldering juniper. None of it made a difference. The sickness did not yield. It was not a fever. It was not a wasting illness. It was not anything Aldric had seen before.

15:19And Luca was just one of many. He felt no guilt for using the young man as a test-subject of sorts. But it did weigh on him that they had tried so many things only for it to make no difference. By this time, the sun was beginning to sat and they packed up their things. The room wreaked of illness, herbs and smoke. Luca's breathing had gone agonial, rattling in his chest, and Aldric knew the end was near. There was no saving the man, and he felt they had learned very little about what they were facing. It was all things considered a waste of the day. But he suppose they had to start somewhere. Selently, they followed Jo's back up to the shop, slipping their masks off as they ascited into the cooler evening air. They had been given the room above the shop as their quarters, and he was relieved they wouldn't have to stay at the same tavern in Eswicka. Peace and quiet would be needed if they were to discover the cause of the plague. Jo's bid them farewell, letting them know that his housekeeper would leave two basins of water and a meal outside the door within the hour for the two of them. It was all he could do to stay awake long enough to eat, and the list was the same, washing before eating with her fingers and falling into heavy sleep. The air would shake, low in ominous as they slept,

16:21but they were none the wiser. The next morning, Aldrich and his apprentice took to the streets determined to find some pattern to the disease. The people of Black Hollow greeted them warmly, smiling too wide, their hands lingering too long when they coughed his in welcome. There was something about the feeling of this kin, something papery that had Aldrich pulling his leather gloves on. They left the masks off unless they were at a sufferers' bedside. They asked questions. No one had answers. The sickness struck without rhyme our reason. The butcher's eldest son had fallen ill while his wife, who shared his bed, remained in touch. The innkeeper's sister had died within days, but her children played outside as if nothing had happened. It made no sense. Aldrich looked for familiar patterns and found none. And the ones who were in touch those with the unnatural brightness in their eyes, they were worse. When asked about the ill, it was as if they could not understand what he was saying. When they did speak, it was simply to bless the beauty of the sunny day with the simple pleasures of their lives. What simple pleasures, it lives muttered at one point. For a scratcher from disuse.

17:21After the town is dying, Aldrich didn't respond, but he didn't disagree either. It was just past noon when they reached the center of town where the distinction between the immune and those who simply hadn't fallen ill was clearer than ever. Those like jewels, who were trying to live their lives as normally as possible as their village fell to pieces when through the motions with hollow eyes. Those who were immune walked the line of rapture, their faces flushed in their eyes nearly glowing. At the butcher shop, Aldrich watched as the man's cold as daily cut list on a stone board with a piece of white chalk, his script blocky and clear. Martin, Benison, Pork. The butcher's hand pauls, a chalk-estating midstroke. Then, inshore up, erratic letters, he wrote help. But while it was stock, standing out against the neat list like a wound splitting the stone board, it shook Aldrich, the word it's almost tangibly violent in their unexpected presence and he fell frozen to the spot as he read them over and over again. Aldrich's apprentice stepped closer. Master Butcher, what does this mean? The butcher blinked, staring at the word as if seeing it for the first time. His course features fell and while the corners of his mouth tried to pull up in a grin,

18:22there was scared confusion in his voice when he spoke. I, his brow furrowed. I didn't write that. His hand trembled. Sharks slipped from his fingers, shattering as it hit the cobblestone ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ilya slipping her mask into place and mirrored the gesture. For a moment, I was sure the butcher was going to ask for their help, but before the words conform, a shever seemed to run through him and his face became bright and cheery. The butcher erased the plea, picking up his broken chalk and continued writing the list as if nothing had happened. Aldrich did not press further. He only nodded and left. Later that day, a woman's scream shattered the relative stoneness of the village. They rushed into the street, joining a small cluster of villagers outside a modest home. The woman stood in the doorway, her face pale, her breath coming fast. It was the weaver, the shirt of her were clutched to her chest with shaking hands. Her pulse was so fast and hard that he could see the flutter of it under her skin at her throat. Madam Aldrich stepped forward. What happened? She stared at him blank-faced. What do you mean?

19:23The scream, his apprentice said, frustration creeping into her voice. The woman's bras knitted together. There was no scream. You over-stopped himself. He could see the lack of confusion on her face, the blank certainty in her eyes. There was no point in arguing. He turned to leave, but not before noticing something. Something small. Something easy to miss in the dim light. The woman's knuckles were blodded and ragged. He wanted to press, but he felt the Liz Glove fingers on his cloak and he let himself be pulled away. There were many more ill to see, even if he was sure those bright ones were the true threat. The rumour of the barber shop was comped, the low-ceiling, slanting, just enough to make a Liz feel like the walls were closing in. The lantern between them flickered weekly, throwing restless shadows against the timber beans. Outside, the Miss Coil thick over the village swallowing the street below. Aldrich sat across from her, his hands cast, his shoulders set in that tide, unchakable way of his. He had not spoken in some time. Never had she. There was too much to say. Too little that would matter. From outside, low and distant came a sound.

20:24Her rumbling, deepest thunder, but rolling slowly beneath the earth. The Liz stiffened her ink stained fingers tightening around the parchment before her. Aldrich did not react. He did not even look up. The barber warned me about that. His voice was as level as ever. Some oddity of the land. The people here have grown used to it. Alias had left too low on them on the sick to believe in harmless things. And there was something so off about this village that she wasn't able to let anything go. It sounds. It is nothing he said too easily. Too quickly. Put it from your mind. Alias did not. Instead, she exhaled sharply and turned back to the notes called before her. None of it makes sense, she muttered. I've seen sickness spread like fire through dry fields. But this, this moves differently. Not for error, not for blood. No pattern. Aldrich nodded to slow and heavy. No swellings like the great death. No rash like the sweating sickness. No vomiting, no wasting. And yet, Aldrich said, his fingers pressing into the one wood of the table.

21:25They die all the same. A low swallowed. The lantern burned low between them. Casting hollows beneath Aldrich's eyes. She looked away, not liking how old it made him look. Running a hand through her short, dark hair, she spoke without thinking. I wish I could ask my father. Aldrich glanced up at her expression and readable. Alias shook her head a bit her left catching in her throat. Not that it would matter. He would tell me I was wasting my time here in a village that will soon be nothing but shallow graves. It was always about the science, not the people. Aldrich did not speak at first. Then evenly, he would be proud of you, Alira. Alias, she huffed. Then, at his grace, physician would be proud of me. A man who lost everything chasing ghosts of disease. Aldrich met her gaze steady as ever. A man who did not stop searching just as you have not stopped. Alias said nothing. The lantern burned lower. The room seemed smaller. She tapped her fingers against the parchment, forcing her mind back to the work. It's not the pox, no puzzles.

22:26Aldrich's voice is quiet, like he was reluctant to return to the task at hand. Not consumption. No blood at cough. Not plague. The Liz's throat felt tight. No bibos. Aldrich exhaled. For a long moment, the only sound was the script of her call against the paper. Then, from outside, the rumbling came again. Well, distant. Beneath the earth. This time Alias saw it. The way Aldrich's hands tense. How his gaze flickered just for a moment toward the door. And how he forced himself not to react. The Liz lied out a slow breath, setting her cool aside. The ink was nearly dry in its well, and her hand ache from gripping the feather too tightly. But cross from her, Aldrich crubbed his temples, fatigued and deep in the lines of his face. We should sleep, he said at last. Alias wanted to argue, but what was the point? The notes before them held no answers, only more questions, more dead ends. She pushed aside her things, capping the vial of incandrolling up the parchment. You're right. Aldrich stood, moving to turn down the lantern.

23:28The wick flickered as the flame receded. The darkness pressed in thick and heavy, smothering the edges of the room, then from outside a scream. It was the same sound they had heard from the weaver before. Raw panicked twisting through the night like a thing alive, but Liz jolted upright, her heart beat hammering against her ribs. She turned toward the window, toward the street below, where only mist and shadow walked. Aldrich's hand was firm on her shoulder before she could rise. No, his voice was iron. Alias swallowed. Someone is already lost. You pulled me away this afternoon, but now I'm doing the same. Sleep. The finality of his words sent a shiver down her spine. He did not let go for shoulder. She did not try to move again. The scream faded, swallowed by the dock. Liz forced herself to turn back to the table though her hands were trembling. Aldrich released her only when she did not move to rise a second time. Then, in silence, he lowered the lanterns flint to a dying amber. The doctors settled in full as they found their cuts, searching for sleep in the dying village.

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25:30get a quality candidate within the first day. Zippercruder, the smartest way to hire. And right now, you can try Zippercruder for free. That's right, free at zippercruder.com slash zip. That zippercruder.com slash zip. Zippercruder.com slash zip. The next three days passed in a slow, suffocating haze. The sick lay in their homes. They're bald as fevered and rock with tremors. They're breathing wet and thick as if something unseen press against their lungs. When they could draw enough breath, they raved. But when they couldn't, the silence of their suffering was louder than anything else you'd ever heard. Les and Aldrich moved from bed to bed. Their mouths damped with a scent of herbs. Their gloves slick with sweat. Nothing helped. They bled. The sick. They burned herbs in their rooms. They rubbed them down with vinegar and crushed roots. Some villages clung to their remedies like lifelines with spring desperate prayers with every swallow tonic. Others had already resigned themselves to their graves. And then there were the others.

26:31The bright ones. The ones who should have fallen ill, but hadn't. The ones who stood two still in doorways, watching their smiles too cheery, the eyes too sharp. The butcher who had written help in the middle of his list of cuts and then refused to acknowledge it. The weaver who moved through the square with fever joy, though her hands trembled at his sides. Les and Aldrich avoided them when they could. The grave pit at the edge of towns wallowed more bodice each day. The bodice lay in heaps, some twisted midspasm, that have still curled as if in sleep. The barber stood beside them one evening, his eyes hollow as they bore witness to the ever-growing mountain of the dead. Villagers had been bringing loved ones to the edge and rolling them in when they had the strength, but the others remained in their beds. No one left to bring them to the final rest. The diggers didn't tell anyone they were sick, the barber murmured as he joined them, more to himself than anyone else. Kept working until they dropped. Tiggered if they admitted it, they'd lose their pay. A list wallowed back byl. The pit stretched wide before them, yawning and unfinished. It would never be finished, she thought.

27:31The number of people in the village had tipped. They were more ill than well and it was only going to get worse if they couldn't find a cure. The dead would continue to grow with the living too of a well to bury them. And through it all, the children were left behind. It took some time to notice and at first a lazer considered it a blessing. The fever took men and women first. The elderly, the weak, the ones with the deepest coughs and the hollowest eyes, but never the children. But she soon came to understand that the children being spared was no blessing, but a curse. It would have been a kind of fate for the youngest among them to die alongside their families. Instead, the towns were often young-roamed and tethered, small wild shapes starting between houses, huddled in corners of homes where their parents still lay stiff in their beds. After a few days, they did not weep. They did not ask for help. They watched. Entybellied and lie-died, they gathered in packs, clinging to one another with a sharp-aged desperation of creatures that did not know how to survive, only that they must. It broke something in her, the echo of some maternal feeling that she had burned out of her self years ago. And at night, when the screams rose again,

28:31it was impossible to tell if they belonged to the dying or to the ones they left behind. They couldn't help the children, but they could help the ill, though the decision did not come easily. It was Aldrich who resisted the longest, though Liz had known from the moment a first whisper to it that there was no other way. They could not cure the sick. They could not ease their suffering, but they could make the dying gentle. The first dose had been the hardest. The layers had done it herself, pressing the Lord in them, laced wine to the lips of a man whose breath rattled in its just like stones in a jar. His hands trembled, but he drank. He trusted her. And when she and Aldrich returned an hour later, he was gone, his face slack. They covered him with his blanket and moved on to the next, and the next, and the next. By the following day, there was no need for coaxing. The villagers understood. Some reached for the cup with their own hands. Others only nod, glassy eyed, lits parting to accept the bitter gift. Aldrich carried the weight of it in his shoulders in the way he hesitated before handing over each cup. He had never been a man who surrendered easily. But this?

29:32This was the worst sort of surrender. The Liz found him by the open grave pit that evening, staring into his depths through the eye holes of his walnut mask. He did not flinch when she stepped beside him. We had no other choice, she murmured. His sigh was heavy and so, so tire. I know, child. The Liz didn't rebuked the term. Taff, Stubborn, Aldrich had earned himself an endiment or two after everything he'd done for her. It was why she hesitated before speaking again, because she knew her thought to an any that he wished to hear. At best, he would brush her off. At worst, he would think less of her as a physician. What all she could do was hope to plant the questions inside of his brilliant old mind. What if it isn't sickness? What if it's something beyond our comprehension, master? He cannot deny that as the fight all logic that we hold. Aldrich turned his head, eyes sharp under the mask. Don't start. You've seen them. She kept her voice even. The ones who should be ill, but aren't. The children who don't cry. The butcher, the weaver, the way they watch us. The way. She swallowed the way their eyes are so bright.

30:34No sickness can do something like that. It's fever, he snapped, survivors guilt. Madness from grief. Do not tell me you believe in ghosts and curses than fear is a les. She didn't, not exactly, but her mind was open to the possibility. Something in noble was almost easier to accept than a sickness so cruel and odd that not even master Aldrich could unravel it. I shouldn't have brought it up. She sighed, I am just lost for understanding. Aldrich, it may make me a bad physician, but I deeply wish that we had never come here. Aldrich turned away from the pit, rubbing a hand down his face before he set his shoulders. You're not wrong about that. At least I've come to a decision. We leave it dawn. We go for help. The les led out to slow breath. The smell of herbs and her mask blowing back to her, yes, as they reached the barbershop for their final night in the village. This bothered the barber waiting for them. She didn't notice it at first, but when she looked closer, it seemed as if his skin was just a touch to pale. His eyes are naturally white in the dim evening. Do you sleep well, doctors? They waited until he stepped side and halfway up the stairs to the second floor. She had Aldrich speak, yes, I saw it too. The rumble came once more deep in the night. It started as it had before. A low vibration threw the floorboards, a pulse in the earth itself, but now it was stronger, more insistent.

31:36Elay's walk at once. The sound cowling into her chest like a warning. Aldrich was already sitting up, listening. His face was lined in flickering lamp light, his expression carved from stone. Then another sound, a high. Keening will rise up of the rumble. Elay's swung her legs over the side of the cot, pulse hammering. She reached the window just in time to see the movement below their horses, dark, fronted shapes in the moonlight, fashioned against their stalls. The screens terror and threw the stillness. One after the other, their hooves connected with the stable doors again and again. Finally, they broke free, fleeing into the night at a desperate attempt to escape the rumble. The stable doors burst open. Who's panned it against the earth? And the beast fled, galloping wildly into the fog, into the trees, finishing into the night like phantoms, chased by something unseen. Elay's pressed a hand to her mouth, dreads settled into a stomach, along with a feeling of inevitability. Aldrich moved beside her, staring after them. He exhales slowly. Evenly, we are trapped for a long moment. Neither of them spoke. The sound still thwombed beneath them, deep and slow, like breath drawn from the lungs of the earth itself, thenalist turned away from the window, gripping the edge of the table with her throat felt tight, while washing up into the back of her mouth, they couldn't stay there. They simply couldn't. We can still go.

32:36Aldrich shook his head. It's half a days right to the next tent that's three, maybe even four times as long walking. We'd never make it before nightfall. I'm an old man. Liz then will go so. Staying is not an option. We must leave at first light. Liz's voice was from steadying. If we stay, we die. We both know it. And we know help to the survivors if we're dead. Aldrich's jaw clenched. He looked toward the lantern. It's glow soft and wavering. Casting long, thin shadows against the walls. For a long time, he didn't answer. Then finally, he gave a slow nod. First light elays its hail shakily, but the relief was bitter, and satisfying first light. Let's try to get some rest. They turned to their cots in silence. Waiting, listening, the sound beneath them did not fade until sunlight began to kiss the horizon, but the doctors wouldn't know it. The clouds had already crept in by then. The rain began as a whisper. A soft powder against the roof. Barely loud enough to stare at her layers from where she sat cold against the cot wooden frame. She had not slept, not truly. Neither had Aldrich. They had only drifted an end out of restlessness. Half-conscious states. The breath maged. The bod is posed around. She paid little mind to the rain at first, except till a minute how much harder it would make the journey to the next town. Maybe they'd find their horses along the way. Some kind travelers that might take pity on them. She dreaded the thought of trudging through the muddy forest

33:37paths, but anything was better than remaining in the village, but then came the lightning followed by the thunder, and the gentle drizzle became a deluge. Water lost the streets in violent, sunting sheets, the wind howled against the buildings, rattling shadows, pulling at delusion, goes of the barbershop and forcing its way through the cracks in the windows of the lantern between them flickered wildly, Aldrich still. Peering through the water glass, it won't let up soon. Alas, move beside him below. The streets pulled with water, streams of a gushing through the muddy ruts of the road, carrying away debris and filth. The storm churned with a fury, a natural for the season, its force almost punishing, hammering the village like a relentless tide, we should wait a day, he suggested, and layers felt her teeth grind together she wanted to argue, but also understood that she had reached the end of her arguing allotment with her master. So instead, she suggested, let's hurry next door and get some breakfast. We'll talk it over then. Was at the sun to mark the time, they couldn't be sure exactly how early it was. But the rain kept the streets empty anyway. I first the villagers did what was expected in a rainstorm. They stayed inside. The immune ones, the ones who had been watching, smiling too brightly, their skin fever flustered, but not fever, it seemed uncertain there.

34:38Lizclips them through open doorways, peering from windows, hovering at the edges of shutters of testing some invisible boundary. Then slowly, they began to move. One by one, they stepped from doorways into the street. Some hesitated, shaking fingers, twitching at their sights. Others went all at once, striding into the deluge, like prisoners marching to the scaffold. Their heads tipped upward, their mouths opened as if in silent rapture. The rain struck their skin and melted it. At first, she thought it was an illusion, the way the water ran from them in thick, dark streaks whirling down into the gutters. But the streaks did not fade. They widened. They deepened. Skin sloughed from bone-like wax before an open flame. A man collapsed his body hollow. Not a man at all, but a thin, papery husk. A woman fell next, and another, and then another. The loaves reached blindly for Aldrich, her nails digging into his arm. He did not pull away. He did not move at all. What is this? Her voice was barely a breath. Aldrich did not answer. Master, she cried,

35:39uncaring if the timber of her voice gave her identity away. What is this? You know I have no answer. He snapped, but he did not sound angry. Instead, his voice was full of desolation. What would you have me say? That it's a devil. That it's the end of all things. A sign of our sins, a liar. Slowly, she let go of his robe, prying her fingers off of him as if they were frozen solid. I just may be part of me hope that he'd seen it before. I haven't. He breathed, closing his eyes. I don't think that anyone be there in heaven, hell, or on earth, I've seen this before. Are we leaving, Master Fane? No child. His words were final. The words of a dead man determined to see his last mission through. I thought not. The liar unclipped her mask from her belt was surprising his ditty hands and slid it over her face. I will follow. Hey, it's Cole Swendell. After I give everything I've got to land a perfect vocal, I usually take five before jumping into the next track. And I've learned exactly how to recharge in that time. Some folks grab coffee.

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37:42So whether you need to hire four, 40, or 400 people, get ready to meet first-rate talent. Just go to zippercruder.com slash zip to try Zippercruder for free. Don't forget that zippercruder.com slash zip. Finally, that zippercruder.com slash zip. The rain had ceased by the time the doctor found the courage to step outside. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth of decay of something deeper, richer that curled in the lungs like the chlorine, horrible sweetness of a wound eff to fester. The village was silent, not merely emptied, not merely abandoned, but gutted. The homes stood still and lifeless. Their doors yawning open. The streets strewn with the collapsed husks of those who had once walked there. Olvich did not speak. He did not need to. Polaro was the only one left to listen, and she knew his silences just as well as his words. There could have been some survivors left in their homes, but it was no wonder that once they saw what had become of their peers, they refused to leave. The rain had melted away so much flesh and sinew on the bodies of the bright ones that they were newly unrecognizable as humans. They were deflated, their scalps of hair

38:44and the stark whiteness of their skeletons. The only signifiers of person had left. Olvich pulled up his throat, heading into the forest, following the tracks of the monstrous parasites. The layers followed close behind him, the boots sinking into the sodden ground, they breathed the only sound between them. He knew they should have fled. They should have run far away the second they could. There was no sense in what they were doing. He was a seasoned professional, and he was supposed to be intelligent careful in the choices he made. But Olvich found himself leading his apprentice into the unknown danger. Something deep and insidious had taken root inside them, a compulsion, an unspoken pull. The same perhaps that had dragged the villagers into the storm, into the rain. The creatures had left a path in an undergrowth, a writhing, churning scour of crushed leaves and torn roots, a tunnel of movement leading into the dense, waiting darkness of the trees. The deeper they went, the worse the air became. It thickened, caught it in their throats, pressed against the temples with a weight that was neither heat nor humidity, but something else entirely. The lanterns glow barely reached past its glass, swallowed by the oppressive black between the trees.

39:45Finally, they reached the end of the path where the earth fell away before them. A credo, fast and yawning, had caved in the ground in front of them. Trees tilted inwards, broods enabled to keep their hold in the rain-slicked mud. It was a wind in the world, and when Olvich stepped as close as he dared, holding the lantern up to banish the darkness, he could see the beating heart in the center. Olvich's breath hitched as a less stepped closer, had breathing fast and frightened like a corned rabbit. They could both see what was there, but the mind refused to grasp onto it. A thing filled the crater. It poles, slow and measured, its fung listening, wrong and impossibly large. A first it seemed only a mass amorphous shifting endless. But then it stirred, and the light caught the sheen of its limbs. It wasn't the gray of fire ash, but the gray of deer drowned flesh. They were not quite tentacles, not quite roots, but something between. This slithered through the earth, thickened undulating, plunging deep into the soil beneath the village. All the pieces in his mind clicked together. The rumbling in the night hadn't been the wind through the trees, or the settling of the earth, but instead it had been this.

40:46It laced clutched Olvich's arm, her fingers trembling against his sleeve. It's underneath us, she whispered. It's everywhere. She was right. The last staggering parasites go toward it in a frantic swamp, disappearing into the mass, spurring into its oily surface once they made contact. They give themselves to it without hesitation, feeding themselves to something greater. Olvich couldn't see a change, but he knew in his bones that it was growing. It isn't a disease, he rasped. It was never a disease. They both had the minds of scientists, but the wills of wars. It was sets healers apart from the rest. But no matter how much will they had older canals, were not fighters. And even if they had been, how could they possibly do battle with the thing below them? The boders in the streets, the hollowed out husks. They had not wasted away a succumbed fever or flux of some unseen pestilence. They had been emptied. They had been incubators and it was still feeding. But what of the disease? Maybe the parasites had failed to take. Olvich couldn't be sure, but he was both infinitely glad and furious with himself that he hadn't attempted a dissection.

41:48Maybe he could have found the answer sooner. Or maybe he would have become infected himself. Elias grew up on his arm tightened. We have to go. The living mass roiled in its arithaic cune, some how-shifting. And then it was staring. One enormous gelatinous I rolled to gase at them. Olvich felt something he had never experienced before. A primordial fear. The promise of a death so complete that even his memory would be consumed. Elias didn't need to ask again. He didn't even remember the decision. But before he could breathe in another breath, the two of them were running. They stumbled back through the trees, sucking in panicked longfalls of air. The rain has slowed to a misty drizzle, leaving the grand slick and treacherous beneath their feet. Elias nearly fell, her boots getting in my ducken by things they did not dare look too closely at. Older caught her by the arm, yanking her upright. Nidor of them spoke. Nidor of them could. The only sound was the whispering sculpture parasites rippling through the underbrush, their bodies glistening with the remnants of the human husks their ones inhabited. They moved with unsettling purpose,

42:49a swarm of writhing filaments slithering away from the village. The town emerged from the thinning trees, like skeletal fingers rising from shallow water. The lanterns and the windows flickered weekly, the warm welcome of just a handful of days ago, a distant memory. They passed the butcher's shop, the signboard with its blocky letters. The apothecated ore on idly in the wind. Shows of herbs and vials had been overturned, the contents crushed underfoot. The scent of lavender and camper was strong, but beneath it was something spoiled. We'll steal someone else's horses. Elias panted, looking wildly about the town square for a sign of his stable. No one is left anyway. They stumbled as the ground shook. Not an earthquake, but something far closer. It was the movement of the earth right below their feet as something vast awakened. A low-grown roll through the air, the sound so all-encompassing it seemed to come from everywhere once. Older stop dead in his tracks. His heart clenched. His lungs seized. The sound was familiar. It is the same rumbling they heard before, the same lomo in that it terrified the horses into fleeing.

43:51But now it was louder. Now it was closer. The streets trembled. The cobblestone shifted, tilted unevenly. A crack splintered down the minroed and from its eat something thick, black, and pulsing. The barbershop collapsed inward with a sudden, violent snap. Wood and stone sucked into the earth like water down a drain. The tremor deepened growing into a deafening roar. Elias was gripping Aldrich's arm again, and while he couldn't hear her, he felt a terrible guilt, knowing that she trusted him implicitly. She trusted him, and he had led her here to her doom. Her lips moved, forming words, but he could not hear her over the noise. He could not hear anything, but the sound of the world breaking open. It reminded him fittingly of the snapping of bones, specifically the femur at the longest, strongest bone in the body that, when broken, came apart with a deep, resounding snap. The chasm ripped through the center of the village, split in the land apart like flush potty under a blade. It was not empty darkness that lay beneath. It was movement. The crater they saw in the forest was only the beginning. This, this was its true form.

44:51A vast, writhing mass heaved itself up from the depths. Its limbs slithering free from the tunnels that had creedled them during its spread. The tendrils were massive, thick as tree trunk's glistening with viscachine. They uncoiled slowly, deliberately as if tasting the air. Most horrifying of all, maybe because it could have been him, had his choices been different with the movements of the parasite ridden husks. The villagers who had once been so bright, so feverishly eager, dragged themselves to the edge of the abyss. Their faces, or what was left of them, lifted in silent, rapturous devotion. They did not scream as the tendrils wrapped around them. They did not resist as they were lifted, one by one, into the roiling mass. He knew they were returning home. Aldrich couldn't move, couldn't breathe, but could only watch. Les renches sleeve, screaming now, pulling at him a frantic desperation. But he was rooted to the spot, transfixed by the thing that has slumbered beneath them all this time. The thing that has hollowed out the bodies, the mines, the various souls of those they had come to heal. He had failed them, failed all of them. Elira screamed his name,

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