"I swear," I mutter through gritted teeth to the sad little corpse of the street urchin who got my morning bread. "I swear, Alvar, that I will find out who did this. And whoever did this will pay. And die, at my hand." In my anger, I pull out the words of an old song, long forgotten to most of Elftown. "Goddess, bless my vengeant vow, grant your favor to my deadly purpose, and if I prove not worthy, banish my cursed soul!"

 As the words pass my lips, I regret them already. I don't know if there is power in the old oaths. Probably not. And it's hard to imagine a greater hell than the one I live in. But vengeance for Alvar is important to me, so I guess I'm stuck.

I glance around the room. There has to be some indication of who did this, some sign that I have not yet seen. I take a few steps toward the table, then freeze. Something is in the hallway. 

I hear a faint, erratic skittering. Like something small - several small things. Coming closer.

More bugs? I lift my blades and wait. One little creature appears in the doorway. Then another. Then four more. They are small, the size of my closed fist, and glowing.

They are not bugs. They look like little crabs, wrapped in wispy, ethereal shards of indigo magic. I remain motionless as they scuttle into the room, one by one, moving a cubit or two, then pausing, little stalked eyes rotating, searching. If it weren't for their eldritch aura, I might shrug them off as scavengers, coming to feast. But I've never seen crabs like this in the marketplace. And I've never seen crabs that glow.

They spread out like a gang of brigands searching a raided dwelling. The two by the door move toward the dead guards. As I follow the start-and-stop paths of the others, I see that each one is moving toward one of the corpses in the room. One breaks off toward the dead bodyguard. The other three move toward the children. Only Calmorien's headless corpse remains untargeted. The two near the door are climbing on the dead guards' heads, through their hair.

One of the crabs is close to Alvar. I leap towards it. As soon as I move, all of the crabs become motionless. I bring my sword blade down on the crab, slicing it in half, my blade hitting the floor beneath it with an audible thunk. The two crab halves fall to either side as the indigo aura unravels into dark nothingness. 

I pull Alvar over to the wall next to the table and away from the other two children. When I look back, the crabs are already crawling on the elflings' heads. Beyond, the dead guards are rising from the floor, crabs on top of their heads, crab legs and claws digging into their skulls. The eye sockets and mouths of the guards glow with the same bluish-purple magic surrounding the crabs. What in the stinking hell of Elftown is this? I crouch in front of Alvar, sword and sickle slowly waving, ready to defend myself against these . . . things.

They don't attack, however. Instead, the bodies of the two guards turn and move awkwardly out the door, like humans who have drunk too much wine. In front of me, the crab-controlled corpses of the two children and the bodyguard also struggle to a standing position and shamble out the door, following the other two risen dead to goddess knows where.

For a few moments, I am too stunned to act. I know what necromancy is; there are stories told of undead monsters raised by evil sorcerers to do their bidding. But I have never seen anything like these crab creatures before. They are obviously magical. Are they sorcerer scavengers, using the indigo magic to move their meal to a safer place for consumption? Or are they the bound minions of a human sorcerer, someone who desires bodies for his own dark purpose. Someone like Jeamo . . . . 

My survival instinct screams at me to forget about it. Just go home and leave it alone. It doesn't involve me. But I can't. I just swore an oath, and if there is any connection between the body-snatching crabs and Alvar's death, I need to find out. I'd better hurry, though. Even walking as awkwardly as they are, the crabs and bodies won't stick around for long. But another moment of indecision delays me. What am I to do with Alvar? I didn't save him from the crab just to leave his body lying here in the warehouse. For all I know, another crab could come and take him. I decide to carry him with me, at least for now. I can get him a proper elven send-off to the Great Forest later.

I pick Alvar up and sling him over my shoulder. His little body is strangely stiff, but very light. The bread he got from me provided most of his sustenance. He died unwanted and miserable, as abandoned in death as in life. Once again the foreignness of our conditions here strikes me. This is not how we are meant to be. Elves are communal by nature. We don't abandon our young. Or so I was taught. Those lessons don't seem to have much application here.