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Rennard returned to Erik, materialized next to him. The
young knight had found another corpse.
In the light of the moon, the dead man's visage was
nearly as horrible as that of the ghost. Rennard shivered,
though not from fear. There was no doubting that the
peasant - a man younger and much more burly than the
previous corpse - had not died easily. He had struggled until
the end.
"Do not touch him!So" Rennard commanded.
Erik looked up, his surprise giving way quickly to
nervous annoyance. "What are you doing here, phantom?"
"Saving you. This man died of plague."
Dornay quickly backed a respectable distance away.
Rennard moved closer, noted the man's contorted features,
the red splotches on his hands and face. A dusty film that
sparkled a bit in the moonlight had already settled on the
upturned visage. It had been a cruel death.
"Did you touch him?" Rennard demanded.
"No, thank Paladine, but I was almost ready to do so."
Rennard turned from the corpse, Morgion's legacy.
Legacy? Rennard turned back.
He thought of all disease as originating from the dark
lord, but some had origins more human than godly. Rennard
leaned close and studied the film on the unfortunate man's
visage. Even in the dim moonlight, the dust shimmered with
a metallic gleam.
"So some accursed things continue," Rennard muttered.
The victim had not died of plague. To the unknowing, it
would seem so, but Rennard recognized the dust. The other
symptoms, too, made sense, now that he knew the truth
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