Even before Arran reached the village's opened gates, he was hit by an overwhelming stench, strong enough that he almost stopped in his tracks.
He'd fought enough battles to recognize the foul smell immediately. It was the smell of death, and if it was this strong even here, he could scarcely imagine what horrors they would find behind the walls.
Yet there was no choice but to continue. There were two hundred Blightspawn barely two miles away, and the village's tall walls offered the only protection they would find for miles around.
That protection hadn't been enough to save the villagers, but there was no other choice. Outrunning the Blightspawn would have been a tall order for the mercenaries on the best of days, and with the number of wounded they carried, it was utterly impossible.
