Chapter Fourteen: The Night Presses In

Arlo’s eyes snapped open. The hall was dark, the fires banked low, yet something else had woken him — a sound like claws scratching stone.

Callan stirred beside him. “You hear it too.”

All around, sleepers shifted uneasily. Then came the horn — a single, sharp note from the watchtower above.

The garrison was under attack.

Soldiers scrambled, clutching spears and half-lit Charter lanterns. Children were herded toward the inner chambers. Arlo clutched Doggy tight, heart hammering.

Callan pulled him aside, voice low. “Stay close. Don’t run.”

The gates shook. Outside, a chorus of groans rose, chilling the marrow in Arlo’s bones.

Then a shattering cry split the night, and the first of the Dead clawed its way over the palisade. A thing of stretched skin and bone, its mouth too wide, eyes glowing with cold fire.

Charter marks blazed from the nearest mage’s staff, searing it to ash — but more were climbing behind.

Arlo ducked as a splintered corpse fell near him, stinking of river mud. He wanted to run, but his feet rooted. Then Doggy twitched in his arms.

A glow pulsed from its wooden body.

Arlo’s lips moved without thinking. Words he didn’t know formed in his mouth, half a song, half a whisper. The Charter marks sparked faintly in the air above him, clumsy but real.

The Dead nearest him screeched and stumbled back as though stung.

Callan gaped. “Arlo—what did you just do?”

“I… don’t know.”

Doggy’s eyes flickered again, dimming, as if exhausted.

The fight raged until dawn. Dozens of Dead scattered, some destroyed, others fading back into the fields. The gates held, barely.

When silence returned, the soldiers slumped where they stood. The mage who had led the defense approached Arlo, her face pale.

“That was no accident, boy. Whatever you carry, it bends close to the Charter. Be wary. The Dead do not come to children without reason.”

Arlo lowered his gaze, clutching Doggy tighter. He felt Callan’s hand on his shoulder, steady but heavy.

They both knew the truth the mage had not spoken aloud.

The Dead weren’t just attacking the garrison.
They were seeking Arlo.