Arthur Daigle's Blog - Posts Tagged "necromancer"

Homecoming

By Arthur Daigle

Soldiering was supposed to be filled with danger, excitement and riches, but Castmal was certain that walking belonged at the top of that list. Three years a soldier and he’d walked something over a thousand miles through mud, brush, rocks and whatever else the world could throw at him. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d ridden by wagon or boat, and it had never been for long. Travel might broaden the mind, but it certainly wore out the boots.

“When shall we reach our destination?” Balefire asked.

“Soon,” Castmal said. “I can see the lights from here.”

Normally he didn’t like talking to Balefire, but today he traveled alone. This road to Ironcliff went through farmland. The broad fields had been harvested long ago and farmhouses were few and far away. This late in the year there was little traffic so he wouldn’t arouse suspicion. It was also getting dark, so there would be even fewer people who might see Castmal talking to himself.

“It shall be good to find friends,” it said, “worthy allies to serve your rise to power.”

Castmal sighed. “I told you to cut it out. You’re going to get me killed talking like that.”

“Your concerns are warrantless,” Balefire told him. “Your future was set when we met. This journey will only add to your strength once we reach your friends and kinfolk. We can count on their support in the years to come.”

“I just hope they’re all right,” he said as he passed a farmhouse. “A lot can happen in three years. I’m proof of it.”

“If your kin are in danger we will protect them,” it said with its usual boundless confidence. “If they have left for greener pastures we will find them. If they have gone to the next world, we will mourn them and avenge their passing.”

Balefire no doubt meant that to be reassuring, but it didn’t know IronCliff. Castmal had grown up in the city and knew the heights and depths it could reach. A hundred thousand people in one place left a lot of room for thieves, assassins and other vermin to hide, like serpents in a wheat field. He hadn’t worried about what might happen to the people he loved when he’d joined the army, but now that he was coming home the thought was foremost in his mind.

Ironcliff hadn’t been dangerous for Castmal when he’d lived there. One look at him convinced most people to leave him alone, and that had been before he’d joined the army. Tall, strong, with dark hair and scars alone his jaw, he was an intimidating sight. Fighting had only added to that. The worn clothes he’d once had were replaced with chain leggings and shirt, a steel breastplate and a shoulder guard on his left arm. He’d kept his long sword and two daggers when he left the service. The weapons might arouse suspicion in other cities, but not in IronCliff. Castmal wore a cotton uniform and cloak over his armor, a backpack and a leather strap wrapped tight over his left arm from the elbow to his fingers. The strap never came off around people.

“Are those lights in the distance Ironcliff?” Balefire asked.

“That’s home,” Castmal answered.

“We will not reach it until well after nightfall,” Balefire cautioned.

“Yes, mother,” he said sarcastically. “I’m not going to travel at night. I’ll find a place to stay, and you need to keep quiet.”

“I was quiet for centuries. It is overrated.”

Castmal looked at the farmhouses along the road. There weren’t many to choose from, and most of those were already sealed tight. He knew better than to knock on closed doors at night. The countryside wasn’t as dangerous as Ironcliff, but there were dangers that crept out under the cover of darkness. Only fools let in strangers at this hour.

That put Castmal in a predicament. He could drive off enemies with a look, but that would close doors, too. He’d rather not spend another night under the stars. It didn’t help that he’d run out of food this morning.

There was a farmhouse not far ahead with an open door. A young man sat outside sharpening a hoe with a steel file. His clothes were a simple cotton tunic and trousers, and he looked bored. The next nearest house was miles down the road, making this his best bet.

“Greetings,” he called. The farmer looked up in surprise. Castmal stopped a healthy distance from the man and said, “Forgive the intrusion, but can you spare space on your floor for a man in need? I wouldn’t ask, but it’s getting dark and I don’t trust these roads at night.”

The farmer looked him up and down. “I can’t see anyone bothering you, night or day.”

Castmal shrugged. “I’ve learned not to tempt fate. I can pay for the help, provided you accept trade.”

A young woman appeared at the door. Castmal guessed she was the farmer’s wife, and judging by her belly they’d have a son or daughter before the month ended. She asked, “What kind of pay?”

Castmal dug into his backpack and pulled out a handful of furs. “Rabbit and squirrel. I caught them earlier this week.”

The farmer and his wife came over to look at the furs. The farmer studied Castmal’s armor while the woman ran her fingers over the furs. She smiled and said, “These are good. I can make mittens from these.”

“We can put you up for the night and feed you, but as you say, the only place to sleep is the floor,” the farmer told him.

“That’s generous.” Castmal kept his face neutral, but he was surprised how quickly they let him into their home. In his experience people ran inside and barred the doors when armed men appeared.

The couple let him inside and the wife quickly put the furs away. The farmhouse was a small, one room building. Farm tools and clothing took up one corner opposite a bed with a straw mattress. The kitchen was a brick oven against the back way. There were bags of dried food and clay pots filled with local spices and pickled fish.

“You’re back from the war?” the farmer asked. He offered Castmal a stool while he and his wife sat on the bed.

Castmal sat down, only too glad to stop moving. He slid off his backpack and set it on the floor. “I was mustered out two months ago.”

“Is it going well?” he asked.

“Wars never go well.” Castmal would have liked to end it at that, but the couple looked eager for more. They’d probably let him in so they could hear news of the outside world. If words could smooth his stay then he’d talk.

“The fighting is a mess,” he said. “We lose men and the Principalities lose men. I suppose someone’s keeping track and one day they’ll decide who won, but for those of us doing the fighting you win if you live to see the sun rise.”

“You must have seen interesting places, though,” he pressed.

“They’re not interesting after they’ve been fought over.” Castmal looked at the fire in the brick oven. It reminded him of the last town he’d been in before he left the army. “Soldiers take whatever they can find. They have to when supplies don’t come in. All the animals are killed for food, wild and domestic. Wrecked homes are broken up for firewood. If there’s anything of value it’s sold for food. The locals run away if they can and beg for help if they can’t.”

The farmer whistled. “You couldn’t pay me enough for that.”

“What did they pay you?” his wife asked. Her husband looked at her, and she held up one of the furs. “You said you’ve no coin. I’m happy with the furs, but I would think you’d barely be able to walk under the weight of your wages.”

“My wages.” Bitterness crept into Castmal’s voice. “I was promised ten silver pieces per month and three meals a day. I’m owed three hundred silver pieces back pay, and there are better odds of me flying than ever seeing it. As for the food, we did well if they fed us three meals a week. We foraged for the rest. Creator help me, there were days I wondered whose side our generals were on.”

The farmer’s wife handed Castmal a wood bowl filled with oatmeal and a small wood plate with two eggs. “Sounds beastly. I know it’s not as much as you’d like, or need, but it’s what we can spare.”

Castmal took the food and smiled at her. “This is good food for the little I gave you. Eggs. It’s been a long time since I had eggs.”

Castmal wolfed down the food, glad to have a full stomach. He was halfway done with the simple meal when the farmer said, “But you must have taken money from the enemy.”

“Let him eat!” his wife chastised him.

Castmal ate one of the eggs and said, “Principalities soldiers were paid as poorly as we were. They had few coins and no jewelry. We sold what little we found to merchants for food. We used the weapons we took from the enemy when our own swords broke.” He tapped his long sword’s handle and said, “This used to belong to an enemy officer.”

“Don’t suppose you found any treasure,” the farmer said.

It took a lot of effort not to look at his left arm. “Nothing I could sell.”

They’d found treasure in the early days of the war, looting enemy homes and castles for anything of value. Officers had a bad habit of taking the best pickings for themselves, so Castmal and his fellow soldiers had to be quick. ‘No sir, nothing here, sir’. Castmal’s captain, an aristocrat named Becack, had suspected them of holding back loot and ordered the men searched. That had ended badly.

Castmal didn’t tell the farmer that, or any number of horrible things that had happened. You can’t explain to a person what war was really like. The long weeks of boredom between battles, the intense fear waiting for an enemy, or how even a farm field can become a place of horror when a battle begins. Nothing in normal life could compare to the gut wrenching fear of a fellow soldier screaming, ‘Wizard!’ before fire and death rained down around you.

“Were there monsters?” the farmer asked.

“Husband!” his wife said sharply. “You’ll have to forgive him, he seems to have left his manners outside.”

“There were monsters,” Castmal said. He finished his food and handed back the plate and bowl. “There were wyverns and chimera. We fought a hydra once. The blasted thing wouldn’t die. Finally ended up burying it alive when we collapsed a stone tower on it. Not sure if it’s still breathing down there, but I wouldn’t risk digging it up. Monsters weren’t what we really worried about.”

“No?” the farmer asked. He leaned in closer.

“There were never many of them on the front,” Castmal explained. “Monsters eat too much. You could feed a platoon with what one monster ate, and nothing but meat would do. If they didn’t get fed they’d attack their own men. They never followed orders well regardless of what the beast tamers say. Monsters panicked if there was a big fire and they ran if a fight got too serious. Smart that way.”

Castmal chuckled. “Funny thing happened once with a mimic, though. The thing looked like a big wooden chest with a fancy metal lock. Real convincing. It wasn’t working for the Principalities, just saw the fighting and snuck in for a free meal of horsemeat after a failed cavalry charge. The fool thing stayed too long, though, and my captain spotted it. He though he’d found an enemy pay chest and stuck it rich.”

“What happened?” the wife asked.

“It kept pretending it was just a chest. The captain couldn’t get it open, so he ordered some men to get an ax and cut it open. The mimic heard that and ran off screaming. It knocked the captain over and ran right over him! We laughed so hard a company of crossbowmen came over and then some lancers. The captain kept ordering us to shut up and we just laughed harder.”

The couple laughed. It was funny, one of the few happy memories Castmal had from the war. Happy times were few and far between back then. Of course getting back to Ironcliff was no guarantee things would be better, but they’d have a hard time being worse.

Worried by what the answer might be, Castmal asked, “Has much happened in the city?”

The farmer shrugged. “Taxes went up a couple times to pay for the war. It’s all we can do to keep a roof over our heads and food on our plates. There are executions, sometimes three a week. A lot of thieves end their lives hanging from a tree.”

Three executions a week was normal for Ironcliff and no threat to Castmal’s friends and families. They stayed clear of that kind of trouble. But there were bigger threats that could sweep up the innocent with the guilty. He asked, “No plagues or riots? No fires?”

“No, Creator be praised,” the farmer’s wife said.

“Good,” Castmal said. “I was worried a refugee might have brought in a plague. A sword’s no good against that.”

The farmer’s wife smiled and got up. “I have a blanket you can lay on, and you’re welcome to sleep by the fire. The bricks will stay hot most of the night.”

“Generous of you,” Castmal said. He looked at the door and asked, “Mind if I step out for a moment? I like to look around before I go to sleep. Old habit.”

The farmer nodded. “Feel free.”

Castmal got up and opened the door. He studied the farmland, looking for threats. It was foolish to think something would happen here. He heard only the wind and some bugs. There was nothing to see but farmland as flat as a table, and the stubbly on the field offered no cover for attackers. Now that he thought of it, there was no one who might attack. The Principalities was far away. Monsters wouldn’t come this close to a city. There were bandits, of course, but they attacked people with money. One look was enough to tell that none of these farmers were prosperous enough to bother robbing. But Castmal had done this every night for three years, and likely would until he died.

The farmer walked up alongside him. “Crickets are singing. They’ll be gone when we get a strong frost.”

Castmal glanced at the man, not sure why he’d said that.

The farmer looked at the setting sun. “They only live a year. They spend all their time in one field, then one day there’s a frost and they’re gone.” He looked ashamed. “I don’t want to be like that. I love my wife, but I don’t want to spend my whole life here, never moving, never seeing anything but these fields.”

The good reception made sense now. The farmer didn’t just want news. He wanted more than his simple life here, and hearing stories was the closest he was likely going to get. It wasn’t surprising. Castmal had been seduced by the same dreams of wealth and adventure, as had many of the men he’d served with. Some had joined out of desperation, running away from debts or the law, but most had been tricked into thinking they were going on to glory instead of horror and deprivation.

“I’d give anything for the life you have,” Castmal told him. “Anything to take away the last three years.”

The farmer stared at him. “You want this?”

“Yes. So would the men I’d served with. I’m going home broke, but some of them are returning crippled. A lot of them aren’t returning. I’m not even sure what I’m coming home to. You have a livelihood here with your farm. You have a wife and a child on the way. You have a future. I’m not sure I do.”

“Ahem.”

“Did you hear something?” the farmer asked.

Castmal rapped his left arm against the doorframe. “No. I…wait.”

“What is it?”

“The cricket’s stopped singing.”

A cloud of fetid air washed over them, heavy with the stench of rotting flesh that Castmal had become familiar with. The farmer coughed and covered his mouth and nose with his shirtsleeve. Castmal drew his long sword and stepped away from the farmhouse. He couldn’t see the source of this stench, but it wasn’t natural.

The sun was nearly set, but a full moon offered at least a little light. Castmal peered into the darkness. He heard something moving, crushing the wheat stubble underfoot. There were one, two, three things moving out in the fields. The footsteps were irregular and make no effort to avoid making noise. The stink got worse, and Castmal saw three shapes that might be men shuffling through the fields ever closer to the farmhouse.

“Inside, now!” Castmal ordered the farmer.

The farmer backed away. “I—”

“Do you have a weapon?” Castmal demanded.

“A pitchfork,” he said.

“Get inside and grab it. Bar the door if you want to see the morning!”

The farmer ran inside and slammed the door shut. Castmal heard a thunk as the door was barred, followed by the farmer and his wife speaking in worried voices. The shambling forms were a hundred feet out and coming closer. One tripped on the stubble and got up slowly. They weren’t moving fast, but they weren’t stopping.

Castmal unwrapped his left arm to reveal a silvery gauntlet covering his arm from elbow to fingertips. It was a masterpiece, beautifully embellished with a dragon.

“Finally,” Balefire said.

“We’re earning our meal tonight,” Castmal said. He stepped away from the house to give himself room to move. “Zombies. I count three.”

“I despise these abominations,” Balefire said in disgust. The gauntlet warmed up and flowed like melted wax, oozing down his arm. He held up his left hand as the silvery liquid reformed into a short sword with a dragon emblem on the blade. It lit up like a torch, providing much needed light.

The light showed that Castmal was right. The three shambling things had been men once. Their clothes were muddy rags. Their skin was discolored and torn. One of the zombies had no eyes, but that didn’t slow it down as it advanced on Castmal. They would be on him soon.

Castmal charged the closest zombie, hoping to dispatch it before all three were on him together. The nightmarish thing tried to grab him, its movements slow and awkward. He stepped to the left and swung his long sword in a low arc. His aim was good and he took off one of its legs at the knee. The monster fell, but no sooner had it landed than it crawled after him.

Zombies didn’t die like men or animals. Their organs were just dead weight, so a blow to the chest or stomach was worthless. They couldn’t bleed to death, either. Castmal had fought their kind before and knew he had to behead them, and the best way to do that was to cripple them first.

“The others are coming on your right,” Balefire said.

Castmal brought his long sword down on the crawling zombie, taking its head off with one blow. The monstrosity slumped to the ground as the second and third zombies came at Castmal. He lashed out and took off one of his attacker’s hands with his long sword, then followed up by driving Balefire into its belly.

“Burn!” he ordered.

Balefire blazed with a terrible white light, cremating the zombie from the inside out. The light spilled out of its mouth and open wounds as it arched its back. Then decaying flesh and bones alike burned away. There was nothing left of the zombie but ashes on the field.

The last zombie grabbed Castmal by his left arm. It pulled him to the ground and leaned over him, its jaw opened wide for a bite to his throat. He brought his legs up and kicked it in the head with both feet. That was enough to knock the zombie on its back. They both scrambled to their feet, but Castmal was faster. He swung his long sword and took off the last zombie’s head before it could stand.

“Well done, my King.” Balefire said.

“I told you to stop that!” he shouted. He sheathed his long sword and pointed at his brow. “Do you see a crown here?”

“A temporary situation. I served kings and was buried with one. When you freed me from that wretched tomb I knew I served another. One day you will rule.”

Castmal grumbled and bent down to inspect the last zombie he’d defeated. “There are rope marks on the neck and wrists. This man was hung. He’s not too far gone, either. A necromancer must have stolen the body after he was executed and animated it.”

“Check the other one.”

The first zombie he’d killed was in better shape. “No rope marks or wounds. No signs of disease, either. He was pretty young. I think this one may have drown.”

“Both are freshly dead, no older than a week,” Balefire said.

Castmal rubbed his chin. “Zombies are mindless, but they serve their maker. Why would a necromancer want to kill these people? They have nothing to steal.”

Castmal’s mind raced. “Could be someone wants the farmland. It’s got to be worth gold, and if the owners are dead it could be claimed. It might be the work of the Principalities. No one can spread fear like a necromancer, and killing farmers would keep food from soldiers still on the front. Or the necromancer might want bodies and not be picky how they die.”

“Or the necromancer is insane and there is no reason,” Balefire suggested. “Madness is an occupational hazard in their profession.”

“Yeah,” he said. The air was still foul, more so after he’d cut open the zombies, but he heard nothing. There was no sign that he was still in danger, but he kept both his long sword and Balefire drawn. “I’d bet gold to silver than whoever made these is close by. They’d have to be to recover the zombies after the attack. Wouldn’t do to let them wander around and be found.”

“Zombies can’t follow complex orders. He could order them to kill the farmer and wife, but they wouldn’t remember a second order to come back afterwards.”

“Why do you say he? Could be a woman who did this.”

“This is the fourth necromancer I have faced. They’re always men.”

“Then he’s going to come pick up his zombies,” Castmal said. “When he gets here he’ll find them in pieces. Has to figure if someone took them down then he’s in danger. You think he’ll run? Running would be smart.”

“It wouldn’t be smart,” Balefire said. “If he killed the family and left with their bodies, few could say who or what did the deed. But with witnesses and destroyed zombies, there would be no doubt who was responsibility for the attack. The authorities would begin a manhunt of epic proportions, turning over every stone until they found him. The punishment for necromancy varies by kingdom. It starts at burning at the stake and gets worse from there.”

“So he’s got no choice but to fight,” Castmal said. “I hate fighting people with no way out. They do stupid things. Dim your light. We’ll wait for him and finish it here.”

As Balefire’s light diminished, there was a creak behind them. Castmal turned to find the farmer opening his door. Before the man could say a word, Castmal shouted, “I said keep that door closed! This isn’t over, and it’s going to get worse!”

The door slammed shut.

“We could be in a lot of trouble,” Castmal said. “The necromancer could attack the farmer and his wife, or one of the other farms here. I’d have to defend them and fight him at the same time. Can’t call on the farmers living here for help, either. Poor weapons, untrained, they’d be butchered.”

“A bad situation to be sure, but we will be victorious. Honestly, though, you don’t need two swords even for a job this important.”

“If men saw me using you, they’d kill me without a second’s hesitation to have you for themselves. If they don’t see me with a sword at all then some idiot would pick a fight, maybe try to rob me. You stay covered up and quiet unless you’re needed.”

Castmal waited in the darkness. The ghostly light from the full moon helped a little, but not much. He didn’t hear anything approaching. The stink of the dead zombies clung to him, making his stomach roll. He tried to guess how much time had passed. Clocks were rare even in cities, but there were some in Ironcliff so he was used to thinking in terms of hours. An hour crept by, then two.

Ironcliff was still visible in the distance as a collection of lights. There were fewer of them burning at such a late hour, but it was still a beacon in the night. He thought again of his home city, of the family he’d left behind. Oddly his mind kept coming back to his favorite restaurant, a nameless, dimly lit little hole in the wall that cooked the best meals he’d ever had. Of course with no money he couldn’t eat there when he got home.

There was no getting around it; he was coming back empty handed. He had no money and nothing he could sell except his armor and long sword. Three years of his life gone and he didn’t have a coin to show for his sacrifices. How could he face his family?

He had Balefire, but he dared not sell it. The sword was alive. You didn’t sell living, thinking beings. But even if he was that depraved, he was smart enough to know that anyone who might buy it would prefer to kill him and take it off his body.

His old captain Becack had tried to kill him. When he’d ordered the men searched for holding back loot, he saw the leather strap covering Castmal’s arm. Becack guessed something was under it besides a wound and tore the strap off. One look at Balefire and the fool’s eyed had lit up with greed, and drew his sword. It had been all Castmal could do to fend off Becack’s furious attacks. The other soldiers had saved him and made it look like a sniper killed the captain.

But Castmal had more immediate problems. “You’ve fought necromancers. What can I expect?”

“I thought you’d fought zombies before?”

“Zombies, but not necromancers.” Castmal was silent for a moment before he said, “It happened before I found you. The Principalities hired a necromancer and had him animate the bodies of our dead, then sent them at us. Happened three times in a week.”

“That must have been horrible. What happened to the necromancer?”

“It ended when a Principalities platoon came under a flag of truce and gave us the necromancer’s head. They said they weren’t party to hiring him, and once they realized what was going on they did something about it.”

“An ending worthy of such a fiend.”

“What can I expect from him?” Castmal asked again.

Balefire’s voice took a harsh tone when he spoke. “Most of their magic is devoted to creating the undead. They have dangerous combat magic as well, but the range is limited.”

“Arrow range or knife range?”

“Their magic reach as far as a thrown rock, but does terrible damage. I will offer warning if I recognize any of his spells. Hold back nothing against this foe, for he will show you no mercy in battle or in death.”

That was a possibility Castmal hadn’t considered. If he died the necromancer would animate his body and send him to kill others. He’d be nothing but a mindless puppet with the necromancer holding the strings. The only mercy would be that without his mind he couldn’t control Balefire.

“He’s here.”

Castmal crouched down at Balefire’s warning. “Where?”

“You see those light coming up the road? They’re called corpse fire, a necromancer’s way to light the land. He can see through them, too.”

Castmal stared down the road and saw pinpricks of light floating at head height. There were five of them, bobbing up and down as they came closer. They were a mile away and moving lazily toward him.

“Not much of a rush,” Castmal said. With his enemy so far off he stood up straight again. “Figure he knows something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. He’s too far away to see the zombies or the farmhouse they were going to attack.”

The corpse fires came closer. They spread out across the field, moving at a leisurely rate. Castmal saw figures moving far behind them. There were five of them, four shambling and one walking more smoothly.

“He’s got more zombies. Those corpse fires, can they hurt me? Can I hurt them?”

“No to both questions.”

Castmal frowned as the corpse fires spread out farther. “Doubt we can avoid them. No place to hide except the farmhouse. We’re going to have to fight them head on.”

The corpse fires, zombies and necromancer came ever closer, showing no sign of haste or alarm. It was tough odds even with Balefire. The thought that he might die within sight of Ironcliff disgusted Castmal. He’d survived terrible battles for years. To die so close to home seemed wrong. And if he died the farmer and his wife would be the necromancer’s next victims.

The corpse fires came close enough for Castmal to see them clearly. They looked like flaming skulls hovering through the air. One of them floated over the first zombie Castmal had destroyed. The other four circled about until they found the second destroyed zombie. Then one saw Castmal.

He smiled at it. “Surprise.”

That corpse fire backed away while the others approached. Two studied the farmhouse and the other three circled Castmal.

“You’re sure I can’t kill these things?”

“Quite certain.”

The corpse fires kept their distance as the necromancer and his four undead minions came ever closer. They still didn’t hurry. That annoyed Castmal. The necromancer had proof that two of his zombies were destroyed, and the third was missing and presumed dead. This called for action! But the necromancer continued his stroll like a man on a shopping trip. It was almost offensive how little this seemed to bother him.

The zombies and their master finally got to within thirty feet of Castmal before they stopped. Two corpse fires hovered over their master while the other three stayed by Castmal. The four zombies were far more decomposed than the three he’d already face, missing their eyes and skin. It was a good bet they wouldn’t last the week even if Castmal didn’t defeat them. The necromancer kept behind his minions, but Castmal still got a good look at him. He wore billowing robes and leather boots. But his boyish face caught Castmal off guard.

“I thought he’d be older,” Castmal whispered.

“A common misconception,” Balefire whispered back. “Few necromancers live long enough to get gray hair.”

“You were right, it’s a man. I owe you a beer.” Balefire chuckled in response.

“This is annoying,” the necromancer declared. He had a petulant expression and an annoying voice that made Castmal want to slap him.

“We went past annoying a while ago,” Castmal replied. He considered the reasons why the necromancer might be here. The man didn’t look insane, just spoiled. That meant this night’s horror was probably over money. “You’re not getting paid enough for this.”

The necromancer’s look of irritation slipped for a moment to show surprise and a touch of fear. But he recovered quickly. “And what are you being paid to die tonight?”

“Me? I got two eggs.”

“Eggs? Eggs!”

Castmal nodded. “Eggs. And some oatmeal. Truth is I’d have done it for free. Do you know where I’ve been?”

The necromancer folded his arms across his chest. “You’re another washed up old soldier, battle fodder for whatever war is popular this year. Your kind infests the roads like lice on a peasant. No one cares where you’ve been and no one will care when you die.”

“Can you say otherwise? Is anybody going to care when you don’t come home tonight?”

The necromancer’s face flushed red. “I’ll show them! All of them! My parents, my classmates and the people who laughed at me! They’ll know my name and they will weep for years to come!”

“Don’t lie to me. I saw the look on your face when I guessed this was about money. You have excuses, but if you’re getting paid then that’s all they are. Kid, I’ve put enough men in the ground to fill a cemetery. I took down three of your rot bags without getting a scratch. Four more aren’t going to save you. I’m giving you a chance to be smart. Walk away now and this ends.”

Hopefully it would end in a platoon of Ironcliff soldiers chasing the necromancer down and hanging him. Castmal wondered if the fool had thought that far ahead.

“You’re right on one count,” the necromancer sneered. “This ends.”

The four zombies came at him while the necromancer stayed back. They were close enough that they’d come at him in a group rather than one at a time. But they were clumped together, and he could use that.

Castmal charged the zombies and hacked at the first one’s leg. He didn’t take it off, but he cut through enough muscles that the zombie fell over. The next zombie stumbled over the first one. The other two went around the pile, giving Castmal enough time to attack the fallen zombies and decapitate one. The two still standing attacked, and he backed away and stabbed one with Balefire.

“Burn!” Castmal shouted. The zombie went up like a torch, burning away to ashes in seconds. The necromancer shielded his eyes from the sudden light. That left Castmal to fight only two zombies and the necromancer, and he could handle three to one odds.

The necromancer spoke strange, forgotten words. His eyes turned black and he threw back his head. A gurgling noise bubbled from his throat before he vomited out a stream of black steaming liquid like a geyser. The filth stunk like boiling tar, and there was far more than his stomach could possibly contain. Castmal jumped out of the way as the glistening, ebony stream splashed where he’d been standing. It struck the two zombies on the ground, one dead again and the other struggling to its feet. Both dissolved under the caustic spray and left behind nothing but bones.

“Two more behind you,” Balefire warned.

Castmal backed away from the necromancer and what he’d thought was the last zombie. He glanced behind him and saw two zombies coming from up the road. The necromancer’s slow pace made sense now. He’d directed two of his undead minions to attack Castmal from behind and waited until they were in place. But the attack’s timing was off. The zombies were coming in two groups and could be handled separately.

The necromancer stumbled away. The spell had clearly taken a lot out of him and he needed time to recover. Castmal charged the last zombie in front of its master and hacked off its left arm. He tried to push past it and get to the necromancer, but the thing grabbed him with its remaining arm and tried to bite him. Its teeth didn’t break through his chain shirt, but the force of the bite bruised his arm. Castmal stabbed it in the face with Balefire and forced it off, then took off its remaining hand. His next blow removed its head.

The necromancer shook himself like a wet dog and stood straight. He pulled a thighbone from inside his cloak and pointed it at Castmal. The necromancer spoke more foul, forgotten words, and the bone began to glow.

“Cover your eyes,” Balefire said.

Castmal wrapped his right arm over his face and turned away just as the thighbone shattered into a cloud of long, sharp bone splinters. They hit Castmal like a wave of nails. Most broke against his armor, but some drove through his chain leggings and shirt, and two cut gashes across his forehead.

“Die!” the necromancer screamed. “Just die, you pathetic, washed up tramp!”

Castmal pulled his arm away and wiped the blood off his brow. The last two zombies were almost in range to attack. Whether he faced the necromancer of his zombies, the other could strike him from behind. But the necromancer was the bigger threat, and more importantly, he could feel fear.

Howling a battle cry, Castmal charged the necromancer. His enemy cast another spell and produced a shadowy viper ten feet long. The magic snake hissed and threw itself into the air at Castmal, its jaws wide enough to fit his entire head inside. Castmal swung Balefire and jammed the blade through its head, pinning its jaws shut. He followed with a stroke of his long sword that cut the serpent in half. The snake turned to a viscous slime that splatted across Castmal and the farm field.

The necromancer’s jaw dropped in surprise and he ran with Castmal a step behind. But the necromancer wore no heavy armor, and with each step he put more distance between them. Once he had enough breathing room, he cast another spell. His hands twisted like squid tentacles and he cried out in pain. His fingernails suddenly stretched out until they were a foot long and glowed sickly green.

Castmal swung his long sword at the necromancer’s chest. He needed only a glancing blow to draw blood, and a solid hit could cripple his foe. The necromancer countered the blade with his freakish claws. Sparks flew as he stopped the sword cold. The necromancer swung his other hand at Castmal’s face. Castmal blocked with Balefire, and neither the magic sword nor his enemy’s claws gave way.

For a moment the two pressed against one another, swords and claws locked together. Castmal would have bet anything that he could knock over the necromancer, but the fiend held his ground. Neither budged an inch.

“Why kill these people?” Castmal shouted at him.

“Someone had to be first,” the necromancer snarled in reply. “They’ll all die, everyone here, screaming and begging and—”

“The zombies are catching up to us!” Balefire warned.

The necromancer stared at the sword in confusion. It was all Castmal needed. He stepped back and the necromancer stumbled forward. Castmal went left and swept his long sword at the man’s ankle. It wasn’t more than a glancing blow, but enough to cut through the man’s boot and his Achilles’ tendon. The necromancer screamed in pain and fell forward as his leg gave way. He reached out with both hands to break his fall, which kept him from blocking an attack with his claws. Castmal drove Balefire through the necromancer’s gut and pulled it out again in a flash. The necromancer fell to the ground.

“Behind you!”

Castmal whirled around to find both zombies within arm’s reach. He swung his long sword at a zombie’s head, but his aim was off and the blade sunk deep into its shoulder. The two zombies pummeled him with their fists and drove him to his knees. Castmal hacked through a zombie’s knees with Balefire. The monster fell backward, and when it did it took the long sword with it, pulling the weapon from Castmal’s hands. The other zombie grabbed him by his neck and throttled him. He rocked back and forth, trying to break free. He pulled at the zombie’s hands, and to his horror he tore off its fingers.

Behind him, the necromancer pulled himself to his knees. He pressed both hands against his wound and began to cast another spell.

Castmal drove Balefire into the standing zombie, but his throat hurt so much he couldn’t order Balefire to burn. The zombie clubbed Castmal with its arms. He pulled Balefire free and plunged it into the zombie’s knee. The zombie fell on top of him and he threw it off. Both zombies were down but not destroyed, and they crawled after Castmal.

The necromancer continued with his spell. He stopped twice, gasping in pain, but did not stop. Castmal ran at the necromancer and reversed his grip on Balefire so it pointed down. He grabbed the hilt with both hands and kicked the necromancer over, then drove the sword through the necromancer’s heart. The necromancer gasped and fell to the ground, finally dead. The crippled zombies slumped over at their master’s death, and the corpse fires winked out, plunging the land into darkness once more.

“How badly are you hurt?” Balefire asked.

Castmal slumped down to the ground next to the necromancer’s body. He croaked, “Give me a minute.”

He put the sword down and rubbed his throat. Castmal pulled the bone needles from the necromancer’s thighbone weapon out of his arm. His arms and face hurt, and he likely looked like he’d wrestled an ogre. He was bruised and cut in a couple places, but he’d been hurt worse than this before.

“Why didn’t you burn the necromancer when you first struck me with him?” Balefire asked.

“Need, need his face. Someone might know who he is, and they can’t identify a pile of ashes.”

Balefire turned into a silvery liquid again and slithered up Castmal’s left arm. It reformed into a gauntlet and asked, “Do you need a healer?”

“No. I need a week to rest.” He laughed, his voice sounding harsh. “And I’m not getting it.”

“What do you mean?”

Castmal struggled to his feet and stumbled over to the two zombies. He grabbed the hilt of his long sword and put his foot on the dead monster’s chest, then pulled hard. The blade came out so fast he nearly fell over. He stood on unsteady legs and pointed the sword at the necromancer. “Someone hired him to do this. Someone knew who he was and what he did, and they hired him anyway. They did it outside my home city. There’s a price to pay for that.”

Staggering back to the farmhouse, he asked, “You know what we’re going to do? You and I are going back to the farmer and his wife, and we are going to tell them everything is okay, that this is over. And we won’t be lying, because we are not walking away from this mess. In the morning we going home and find anyone who will still talk to me, and I’m going to tell them what happened here.”

“Does that include the authorities?”

Laughing even though it hurt, Castmal said, “They couldn’t even feed me when I fought a war for them!” Thinking better of it, he said, “I’ll tell them. If I don’t the farmer will. But I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for them to fix this. You, and I, and my friends and family, we are going to find who is behind this. We are going to hunt them down no matter where they are or who they are, and we are going to kill them.”

Balefire glowed brighter, and its voice was heavy with pride. “As my King wills it, so shall it be done.”

Grace looked up from her work in the garden when she heard her daughter Jenna giggling inside the house. The little girl found all sorts of things funny, like pushing wood bowls off the table at dinnertime and throwing her ragdoll out of a window. Most toddlers do such things and Grace didn’t take it personally, but experience had taught her to be wary when her daughter was too happy. Worried what had happened this time, Grace got up (no easy feat when she was seven months pregnant), brushed dirt off her knees and went inside her small wood house.

She found her daughter sitting on her small bed next to the fireplace. Jenna was a plump girl of two and a half years with brown hair like her mother and a simple cotton dress. She wasn’t alone on the bed. Two small gray kittens lay on the straw mattress, animals so young their eyes were still closed. Jenna cradled a third kitten in her lap and stroked its back.

“Kittens, mommy!” Jenna called out when Grace came near. Technically she said ‘kit tens’, but the meaning came across.

Grace sat down on the edge of the girl’s bed. “Sweetie, where did you get those?”

Jenna grabbed the other two kittens and placed them in her arms. “Mommy cat gave me kittens.”

Grace looked around the small house. There were two beds, one for her and her husband and another for Jenna, a chest for their clothes, a table with three chairs, but there was most definitely no cat. They’d never had one, making this gift of nearly newborn kittens more than a touch unusual.

“Jenna, where is the mommy cat?”

“She left.” Jenna heaped love on the mewing kittens, kissing them and hugging all three.

As if on cue, a large cat walked through the front door of the house like she owned the place. She was big and healthy with a luxurious silvery gray coat, and she carried another kitten in her mouth. The cat had a black collar with a large, red faceted garnet rimmed with silver on it. Such a piece of jewelry would fetch good money at market if some fool tried to take it. No one robbed a sorceress and lived a long life.

The cat jumped onto Jenna’s bed and set down her kitten. Jenna scooped up the new arrival and squealed, “More kittens!”

Grace put an arm around her daughter. “Sweetie, that’s Esme’s cat. These are her kittens. We can’t keep them.”

“Mommy cat gave them to me,” Jenna said. Her tone made it clear this wasn’t a protest but a statement of fact.

Esme’s cat bounded down off the bed and headed for the door. The cat glanced at Grace and gave her a look that said ‘I tolerate you’ before leaving.

Jenna set down her armful of kittens and patted her mother’s swollen belly. “We have kittens and a baby. Baby kittens!”

“Oh dear,” Grace said. Peasants had no dealing with magicians and sorcerers if they could help it. Magic wielders felt the same since peasants had nothing they wanted, no jewels, no rare plants or mushrooms for potions, no monster parts like unicorn horns or dragon scales. Each side stayed well clear of the other and liked it that way.

Esme was no world shattering power when it came to magic. The old woman lived by herself at the edge of the forest, occasionally making potions for sale or working some minor enchantment for aging noblemen who were having trouble in the bedroom. Esme came to the village with her cat only rarely to buy food or clothes before returning to her shack. The sorceress was polite, calling men sir and women ma’am as if they were important people.

Keeping the kittens was out of the question, but it was essential they stayed safe until Esme reclaimed them. Grace went through her limited belongings until she found an old wicker basket. She filled it with rags and placed it on her daughter’s bed. “The kittens need to stay warm. Let’s put them in here.”

Jenna was a compassionate child even if she was mischievous. She placed the kittens in the basket and shouted, “Warm kittens!”

“You play nice with the kittens,” she cautioned her daughter. She stroked Jenna’s face and said, “Be gentle, like this. Can you be gentle?”

Jenna stroked a kitten and smiled. “Soft.”

“Yes, touch them very softly, like that. Come with me into the garden. You can hug the kittens all you want there.” Grace picked up the basket and carried it outside to the vegetable garden next to the house. Jenna followed her and continued cuddling the kittens while her mother worked.

Grace worked on a plan while she weeded the garden. The kittens had to go back, no question, but she couldn’t do it now. She had chores to do and dinner to make, and she had to keep an eye on Jenna. Her husband would be back from cutting wood in the forest soon enough. Once he returned she’d explain the situation, and in the morning he could take back the kittens when he went into the forest. She didn’t like placing this on his shoulders, but there was little choice.

It wasn’t long before Esme’s cat brought yet another kitten. The cat spotted them by the garden and came over to investigate. Finding her kittens in the basket, she deposited the fifth one and nursed them.

“Mommy cat loves me,” Jenna said.

“I’m sure she does,” Grace said as she watched the cat. It glanced at her only briefly before licking the kittens clean.

Grace was a simple woman of twenty-three years, poor and forever to remain so. She had no education except what her mother had taught her. She wasn’t sure what to do when faced with a potentially dangerous situation like this. What was the sorceress’ cat doing in her house? There was no relationship between her and the sorceress. She’s never even spoken to Esme. Hopefully they could solve this problem without upsetting Esme.

Once she’d fed her kittens, Esme’s cat toured Grace’s house. It wasn’t much, a single room house at the edge of the forest with a garden and large woodshed her husband kept full. There were no fields or pasture with it, for Grace’s husband Roy earned his living as a woodcutter. Nor were there houses nearby, the closest one an hour’s walk away. Apparently satisfied, the cat ran off into the woods, hopefully not to bring another kitten.

With her work done in the garden, Grace brought the basket and her daughter inside to cook dinner. Normally this was a trying time since her daughter got bored easily and would wander off, but this time Jenna stayed by the basket and cuddled one kitten after another. The meal was almost ready when her husband came back from the forest pulling a sledge loaded with deadwood.

“That smells delicious,” Roy said when he came inside. He was older than Grace by ten years and had scars running across the left side of his jaw. There were more scars, but his shirt hid those. Roy brought in his tools, axes and saws, and a rabbit he’d caught.

“A problem came up while you were gone,” Grace told him.

Roy kissed Grace and stroked her belly. “The little one’s kicking again.”

“Like an angry mule, but that’s not what I mean.”

Jenna ran up to her father and hugged him, then pulled him to the basket. “Kittens, daddy! Kittens!”

Roy bent down to look at the animals. “Who did we get these from?”

“Esme’s cat brought them,” Grace told him. “She left them on Jenna’s bed.”

“That’s, um, that’s unusual.” Roy put an arm around his daughter and hugged her. “Esme didn’t say anything about this, did she?”

“Not a word. I’ve seen cats move their litters plenty of times before if they thought they were in danger. Who could bother Esme?”

Roy frowned. “You put more faith in her than I do. There’s no telling what kind of trouble Always Fails Esme is in.”

“Dear, don’t call her that.”

“She took three apprentices over the years and kicked them all out,” Roy said. “Three girls she thought the world of, I might add, and left them worse than when she’d met them, and one of them was Esme’s own niece. Those girls ended up angry, arrogant, half trained and half -witted. Two of them are dead, and it’s a pity the number isn’t three.”

Grace had to put a stop to such dangerous talk. She hugged her husband and said, “She gave them a chance. It’s not her fault they failed. You ran into men like that in your days in the army.”

Roy sat down on his bed and pulled his family into his arms. “Too many times. Give a man power and you see the worst in him. We had to protect the few good officers we had from our own side. Grace, I know you don’t like me speaking ill of Esme, but I’ve met my share of wizards. Not a one cared if kings died, much less soldiers. This isn’t safe for our family. Whatever’s going on, we need to settle it soon.”

“My kittens,” Jenna said.

“Where’s the cat now?” Roy asked.

His question was answered when Esme’s cat leapt through an open window and landed on the floor. The cat walked over to the basket and checked on her kittens before studying Roy, Grace and Jenna for a moment with a look that said ‘tolerable, barely’.

“That’s her cat,” Roy said. “I’ve seen it in the forest often enough hunting rodents.”

Grace and Roy were tense, not so much worried about the cat than they were what its owner might do. Jenna had no such worries and hugged the cat. “Mommy cat.”

The move surprised the cat. Jenna stroked the cat, and it relaxed and rubbed against her. “Pretty cat. Mommy cat, baby cats, where’s daddy cat?”

The cat’s eyes snapped open and it looked embarrassed, a rare move for cats. Roy smirked and asked, “Yes, where’s daddy cat?”

The cat glared at him, a ‘keep it up and see where it gets you’ look before slipping out of Jenna’s grip and leaving the house. Once it was gone, Roy relaxed. He put his axes and saws away on a high shelf far out of his daughter’s reach.

“After dinner I have to deliver the wood I gathered,” he told Grace. “In the morning we’ll see about the cat.”

“I get kittens and mommy cat?” Jenna asked.

“We’ll see,” Grace told her daughter.

Grace cooked the rabbit her husband had brought and left him to prepare the skin. Officially hunting was reserved for nobles, but their neighbors didn’t begrudge a poor man bringing in small game. Once or twice a year Roy caught a deer and shared its meat with the villagers, who ate the evidence of his poaching within hours. Neighbors considered this proof of his generosity rather than a crime.

Once dinner was done Roy went to deliver firewood to merchants and the nearby baronet while Grace cleaned up after the meal. Normally she’d look after Jenna, but the rambunctious child was too enamored with her kittens to wander. They’d need firewood to keep the house warm in the night, so Grace headed for the woodshed.

The woodshed was a small building open on two sides. Roy kept it well supplied with deadwood and live trees he’d cut and left to dry. Farmers and craftsmen counted on Roy to keep them warm through the winter, and carpenters often came for building material.

Grace poked through the woodpiles looking for a few small branches she could burn. She hadn’t finished when her unborn child kicked within her. “Mother keeps saying only boys kick so much. You must be healthy to make so much trouble.”

She reached over a pile to grab a dry branch and froze when she saw a spot of red. Grace dug through the woodpile, going ever deeper into the woodshed until she reached a bright red velvet pouch in the back corner. She lifted it and heard it jingle. Coins. There were more velvet pouches under the first one. One, two, three, four in all, each one was big enough to carry a goodly amount of money. Hesitantly she opened one and took out a single gold coin.

There was a terrible hiss behind her, and Grace dropped the pouch. She turned to see Esme’s cat carrying an ivory wand in its mouth. The cat dropped the wand and growled at her, claws extending and hairs rising across its back.

Grace was having none of it.

“How dare you!” The cat held its ground and snarled at her. Grace threw the coin at the cat’s feet and shouted, “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’re going to get into over this? Taking a rabbit now and again is one thing, but this is robbery! Esme is going to think we stole it! She’ll be furious!”

The cat froze in place. Its hairs settled and it looked down as it backed away. Was that embarrassment? Fear? A sudden realization hit Grace, and her tone softened when she spoke.

“Oh. Oh, girl, I’m sorry. Esme’s gone, isn’t she? That’s why you came here.” She bent down and picked up the cat. It made no move to escape, instead rubbing its face into her dress. She carried it back and set it inside next to the kittens.

Roy came back as night approached, and Grace met him at the door. He saw the look on her face and asked, “What happened?”

“I think Esme died,” Grace said, her voice just above a whisper. Jenna was too young to hear of such things and was best kept in the dark. “She died and her cat came here to raise her kittens.”

Roy cursed bitterly but softly enough that Jenna wouldn’t hear. “I’ll get my cousins and we’ll look in on her in the morning.”

“You’ll bury her?”

“There are small laws and big ones. Burying the dead is a big one. We’ll see she gets a proper grave, and Father Amadeus Firepower can say a funeral for her and bless the grave next time he comes to the village. That should be enough to keep dark spirits from taking over her body now that she’s moved on.”

Grace’s heart beat faster. “You think that could happen?”

“I saw it when I was in the army. I mean to make sure I don’t see it again. Make no mistake, Grace, I’ve no love for the sorceress, but I’ll not see her become a barrow wight wandering the forest. I do this for you and for Jenna.”

* * * * *

The next day started calmly enough. Jenna stayed near the kittens while Esme’s cat came and went as it pleased. Grace took her daughter and collected wild greens and mushrooms from the forest. Roy left early in the morning, coming back at noon with mud on his hands. He washed in a nearby stream and when he came home waved for Grace to join him outside. “You were right.”

“How did it happen?”

“No sign of violence,” Roy said. “I think it was just old age. We buried her deep and covered the grave with a large rock. That should keep the body quiet until the priest can bless it. Esme’s cat watched us the whole time we buried her. I asked my cousins to tell the baronet what happened. It may take a few days for knights or the sheriff to come settle Esme’s affairs now that she’s gone.

“I didn’t see much in her shack. No coins, no books or scrolls, no potions. Just as well there’s nothing to take or men might get jealous. We’re wondering if we should burn her shack down so bandits and rogues don’t use it.”

Grace hesitated before saying, “Esme’s cat hid things from her house in our woodshed.”

“What sort of things?”

“Things that might make men get jealous. Gold, a wand, maybe more I didn’t find.”

Roy made a low, growling sound. “Always Fails Esme causes trouble even when she’s dead. Tell no one about this. Don’t touch it, especially the wand. God only knows what it does. If knights come or Esme has any family who comes to mourn her then we’ll tell them.”

“The gold could do a lot of good here.”

Roy grabbed his tools before heading for the door. “Merchants would want to know how we got it, and telling them it’s from a dead woman wouldn’t go over well. That’s assuming they don’t just try to take it from us. I’ve seen men killed for a handful of copper coins. Heaven help us, bandits would wipe out the whole village for gold. I’ll be back in time for supper. Grace?”

“What is it?”

“Be careful around the cat,” he said. “I know how stupid that sounds, but I’m serious. I saw wizards back when I was in the army and some kept cats. They cast spells binding the animals to them. I didn’t understand it much and the wizards never explained except to call them familiars. If that cat is a familiar I don’t know what it can do without Esme, but it could be dangerous.”

Grace frowned. “If it’s dangerous we can’t safely get rid of it, either.”

“No, we can’t, and that’s why we need help dealing with this. Keep safe.”

Grace spent the day gardening and watching over Jenna. Her daughter was still excited with her new pets and stayed with them constantly. Esme’s cat came back at noon to check her kittens. The cat stayed for a while watching Grace.

“My husband thinks you’re something special,” Grace told the cat while she worked. This didn’t bother Jenna, as small children often talked to animals and toys. The cat watched Grace, showing only minor interest.

“I think he’s right. Cats don’t care about gold or wands. Esme must have cast spells on you to make you smarter, so I hope you understand me. I know you came here to keep your kittens safe, but you might be putting my family in danger. Men want gold enough to kill for it. They might kill for Esme’s wand. I don’t know if you brought them here to keep them safe or as a gift, but they can’t stay. Did Esme know people you can bring them to?”

The cat looked down and shook its head. Grace petted it and asked, “Why did you come here in the first place?”

Esme’s cat gave her a look that said ‘are you kidding’ before it looked at Jenna. The little girl was sitting inside the basket with a pile of kittens on her lap. The cat also rubbed against Grace’s belly, where her unborn child started kicking.

“One mother counting on another.” Grace took Jenna out of the basket and put the mewing kittens back in it. “Then take this from one mother to another: Roy’s a good man and he’ll take care of us, but he can’t protect us from everything.”

The cat gave her a ‘oh, him’ look, and Grace scolded, “Don’t you give me that. I was a girl when the king needed soldiers. They took Roy and ten other men from our village. I was a grown woman when Roy came back alone. He survived things that should only be in nightmares, and after he came back he killed two monsters living in the forest.”

Esme’s cat didn’t look sorry, but it didn’t show further disrespect before heading into the woods. Grace didn’t see it again until Roy came back at the end of the day. The cat lay in front of the fire, watching them when Roy handed Grace a squirrel he’d caught.

“Any trouble?” he asked.

“While you were gone Jenna stuffed all the kittens inside your spare socks. I just finished getting them out.”

Roy picked up his daughter and ticked her chin. “Why did you do such a silly thing?”

“To keep kittens warm,” Jenna told him.

“I can’t argue with that,” Roy told her. He put the little girl down and clarified, “I meant any trouble from our guest.”

Grace took the squirrel and prepared it for dinner. “No. I think Esme’s cat is only going to be with us until her kittens are grown. There’s no need for her to stay after that.”

Roy seemed more at ease with the idea. “As long as there’s no trouble. She seems lazy enough.”

“Must you pick fights?” Grace asked.

“It’s not an insult,” Roy said as he put his tools away. “Hunters who don’t know what they’re doing spend all their time and energy finding food. Lazy hunters are the best kind. They know what they’re doing, catch their food quickly and go home early, and that is one lazy cat.”

Esme’s cat showed considerable interest in the squirrel Roy had brought home. Roy wagged a finger at it and said, “We’re putting a roof over your head, but we’re not feeding you. Get your own dinner.”

The cat gave him a disparaging look that said ‘cheapskate’ before it got up and left the house. Grace, Roy and Jenna had the rest of the night to themselves with no further visits. Grace put Jenna to sleep, even if the girl insisted on taking the kittens and their basket with her to bed. Roy and Grace went to bed and were fast asleep within minutes.

* * * * *
Boom!

The explosion woke Grace and Roy from their sleep. Jenna woke screaming and ran to their bed. Grace scooped up her daughter while Roy grabbed a long handled ax from his tools.

Grace staggered to her feet with Jenna in her arms. “What was that?”

“Stay in the house!” Roy ran outside and came back within seconds. “I see smoke and bright lights in the woods. It looks like it’s coming from Esme’s shack.”

“You said there was nothing in there. How could it explode?”

“I don’t feel like finding out. Take Jenna and whatever you can carry and go to your parent’s house. I’ll round up any villagers who can help and get the baronet. Problems this big are his business, not ours.”

Most of their possessions were cheap and replaceable, leaving little for Grace to carry. She headed outside when Jenna yelled, “Kittens! I want my kittens!”

Roy grabbed the basket and handed it to Grace. “Go! Hurry!”

Grace didn’t get a step before pain washed over her. She winced and gripped her head, nearly hitting a wall as she staggered under the strain. Agony hit Roy just as hard and he fumbled for his ax. Jenna cried out and the kittens made pitiful noises.

“Yes, hurry,” a taunting voice called out.

Roy and Grace looked outside their simple house and saw lights floating in the darkness. A group of strange figures emerged from the forest. A tall woman in flowing robes was in the lead and flanked by two unnaturally thin figures. Too late Grace realized those things were men’s bones knitted together, and they had red glowing eyes. Two skeletal hounds and a skeletal stag followed them. The strange lights came from glowing skulls that floated around these terrible people.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” the woman taunted them. She was a grown woman but had a child-like voice and a singsong tone like a mother speaking to a child. “Auntie Esme hurried all the time, except when she didn’t. She hurried to tell me I was wrong. She hurried to kick me out like I was trash! She hurried to tell wizards not to teach me! But she wouldn’t hurry to trust me. Isn’t that silly?”

“Stop playing around,” a skeletal man told the woman. “Your lightshow is going to bring trouble.”

“You see what I have to put up with?” the woman asked. “My children are so disobedient. I’ve made and killed three batches of them, but the new ones are never better. You’re a mother. You understand.”

Roy stepped in front of Grace and Jenna. “We had nothing to do with Esme’s death.”

“Of course you didn’t,” the woman said scornfully. “Auntie could have killed a hundred men like you. The dark spirits told me she died in her sleep. She’s gone and the world’s no worse for it. Auntie never did anything worth doing. Don’t use magic if you don’t have to. Don’t become dependent on magic. Don’t make people jealous of your magic by showing off. She could have overthrown kings with her power, and she wouldn’t even fix a broken teacup!”

Grace staggered back under the pain. Where was it coming from? Why wasn’t it affecting this crazy woman and her monsters?

“Your aunt, her cat brought things from her house,” Grace struggled to say. “They’re in the woodshed. Take them and go.”

“Why do you think I came here?” the woman demanded. “I searched her miserable hovel and tore it asunder. The dark spirits told me where to find her wand. Seems she gave away her magic rings a few years ago to a wandering brat. Someone finally impressed auntie, it’s that strange? She threw out two girls and then me, her own niece. Three apprentices desperate to learn, desperate to please her, and she treated some penniless idiot on a quest like he mattered! She thought that was the end of it, but I found others to teach me! I showed her!”

The woman smoothed out her robes before saying, “That’s neither here nor there. I can feel auntie’s wand nearby. I could take it and walk away, no harm done.”

“But you won’t,” a skeletal hound said. It spoke like a bitter man.

“We’re stuck serving an idiot,” the other hound said.

The woman glared at her monstrous servants. “Auntie liked it here. So peaceful, so quiet, so boring, just like her. I couldn’t kill Aunt Esme, she was too strong, but I can burn everything she loved. So, about that wand, let’s pretend you didn’t tell me where to find it. I like pretending.”

A skeletal man took a step toward Grace. “It’s playtime.”

It didn’t take a second step. Roy screamed a battle cry and swung his axe in an overhead attack, breaking through the skeleton’s skull and ribcage. Smashed bones went flying as the skeleton staggered back. Roy followed up with a swing across its chest that broke the rest of its ribs and its spine.

A skeletal hound bound at him and suffered for it. Roy’s next swing took off its head, and the following blow broke both its front legs. The next hound was a second behind the first and lunged at Roy’s neck. He ducked under its jaws and swung again, breaking off its back legs before he crushed its spine.

“Hmm, didn’t see that coming,” the woman said.

Grace did. Her husband had been a soldier for years and killed monsters after leaving the king’s service. Since coming home he’d cut wood twelve hours a day every day of the week. Battle tested and with muscles like iron, he was a match for these abominations.

“Let’s talk this over,” the second skeletal man said as Roy charged it.

“Grace, run!” Roy yelled.

Grace ran with her child and an armful of kittens. She’d only gone a few steps when the skeletal stag came after her. She dodged its sharp antlers by the thinnest of margins. The monster outpaced her and came to a stop directly in front of her. Grace ran back to the house and hid in the woodshed seconds before the monster charged.

“You can’t stay in there forever,” the stag taunted her. Hearing it speak like a person was horrifying. The stag tried to force its way into the woodshed, but its long thin legs and broad antlers got caught in the piles of wood.

Grace put down her daughter and the kittens before she pressed both hands against a tall woodpile. She pushed for all she was worth until the pile fell across the stag’s antlers, pinning it in place. She grabbed a long piece of firewood and stood over the stag, swinging again and again, breaking its legs and ribs until the awful thing stopped moving and the red light in its eyes died away.

“This wasn’t my idea!” the skeletal man said as it fled past the woodshed. It was missing its right arm, and another swing of Roy’s axe took off the other one. “Not in the face! Not in the f—”

He hit it in the face and crushed the last skeleton. With it gone the pain coursing through Grace’s body faded away and she felt normal again.

“Pity that,” the woman said. Her followers were gone, but the woman was far from defenseless. She wove her hands in the air and spoke foul words, then took a bottle from inside her robes and threw it to the ground. The bottle shattered and a tiny flying creature rose into the air. Seconds later the skeletons’ broken bones were swept up as if by a great wind and fused together around the little creature, forming a skeletal man eight feet tall.

“Can you see me, auntie?” the woman screamed as her monster marched toward Roy. “Your other students died, but not me! Am I not powerful? Am I not worthy?”

Grace dug through the woodpile until she found Esme’s belongings. She tossed aside the pouches filled with gold and grabbed the wand. This madwoman wanted it. Maybe it could stop her if Grace could figure out how it worked.

“Grace, run!” Roy struck the monstrous skeleton, but the fused bones resisted his blows. It tried to slap him and missed.

The wand had no writing on it, no trigger or lever, nor any switches. Grace did see two tiny silver rings near the base. Both rings could slide toward one another, and when she slid one she felt the wand vibrate.

“Grace!”

“As if running would help,” the woman said casually.

Grace stepped out of the woodshed just in time to see the monster skeleton knock her husband over. She pointed the wand at that revolting monstrosity and slid the two silver rings together. The wand shook like someone was trying to pull it from her hands. When the rings touched a deafening boom came from the wand. The horrible monster looked so confused before a wall of sound hit it like a battering ram, smashing it apart and sending bone shards flying.

“That would be auntie’s wand,” the woman said. She didn’t sound bothered.

Grace pointed the wand at this maniac who’d attacked her family. She slid the two rings together, and was rewarded with absolutely nothing. No boom, no shaking, nothing.

“Aunt Esme made that wand,” the woman said. “It works only once a day, one of her little teaching moments. She said if you have to resort to violence more than once a day then you should find better ways to deal with your problems. I’d say she’s wrong, wouldn’t you? Auntie was wrong about so much.”

The glowing skulls circled around the woman as she cast another spell. Giant black spider-like legs sprouted from her back and scratched at the edge of Roy and Grace’s house. Sharp claws on those legs hacked through oak boards as if they were soft dirt. Another spell formed a dense cloud of biting flies around the woman’s right hand.

“You killed my children,” the madwoman said as the cloud of flies grew larger. “It’s no great loss. They were as disappointing as the ones before them. Still, I’d be lonely without them. You and your neighbors can replace my children…after a few modifications.”

Roy gripped his axe and braced himself. Grace threw the wand aside and grabbed a loose branch from the woodshed.

“Hiss!”

The noise was loud enough to draw all three people’s attention. It was Esme’s cat, standing at the edge of the forest. The cat had caught a squirrel and brought it back, dropping it at the sight of the battle. Grace fancied that she could guess the cat’s thoughts by its expressions. What she saw in it now was outrage, fury, hatred without limit, a look that said ‘how dare you’. Grace saw the red garnet on the cat’s collar glow bright in a match to the cat’s wrath.

“Why are you wearing auntie’s broach?” the woman asked.

Grace wondered why the madwoman didn’t recognize the threat. Whether it was insanity, stupidity or arrogance, she missed the opportunity to strike first. Esme’s cat charged the woman and ate up the ground between them in seconds. The garnet glowed brighter still as the cat changed, twisted, bent and grew until it seized the woman with claws four inches long. The woman cried out in shock as Esme’s cat, cat no longer, dragged her eighty yards into the forest. Seconds later her cloud of flies scattered and the glowing skulls winked out.

* * * * *
The baronet and ten soldiers arrived at the woodcutter’s house early the next day. Word had gotten to him that Esme had died. He’d put little thought to it as he was no relation to the woman and had no claim on her property, nor did he use her potions or enchantments. But morning had brought reports of an explosion in the forest and talk of dark magic. He found the woodcutter and his family surrounded by neighbors and relatives. They were shaken up but not seriously injured.

“What happened?” the baronet asked as he approached.

The woodcutter bowed his head. “Sir, one of Esme’s banished apprentices came last night. She swore violence against the village.”

The baronet gritted his teeth. Two of Esme’s former apprentices were safely buried. Word was that Esme’s last and worst apprentice had sunken deep into black magic and necromancy. If she was here then every man within twenty miles was in danger.

“Where did she go?” the baronet demanded.

The woodcutter pointed to a fresh grave with many large rocks over it. “We buried as much of her as we could find.”

“You killed her?”

The woodcutter looked down and his pregnant wife joined him. “No, sir.”

“Sir,” the woman began, “we would have died except Esme’s cat attacked the woman. Your lordship, Esme must have enchanted her cat. I think she left it behind in case her apprentice returned.”

The baronet didn’t relax at this news. If Esme’s last and worst apprentice was gone so much the better, but he had no cause to rejoice if there was an even greater threat present. “Where is this cat?”

The woodcutter’s wife pointed at a large silvery gray cat with a black collar. The cat sat at the doorway to the woodcutter’s house, joined by a little girl and a number of kittens. The cat watched him. It didn’t look threatening, but wizard’s pets seldom did.

“I see,” the baronet said. He was a practical man who had survived many threats by being smart enough not to run straight at them. This was a matter for wizards to deal with, or possibly a higher ranked nobleman, and his meddling could only make things worse.

Countless eyes watched him. He needed to calm them before someone panicked. “The animal doesn’t seem to be causing trouble. I will petition for a court wizard to deal with any matters Esme left unresolved. Until then I’m leaving my guards here to prevent further problems. Has Father Amadeus Firepower been contacted?”

“We sent a messenger at first light,” the woman said.

The baronet nodded. The priest could make sure the necromancer stayed dead, no certain thing when black magic was involved. “Good. You’ve done well in difficult circumstances and have reason to be proud. Return to your homes and fields.”

The crowd dispersed slowly, still half panicked. The baronet couldn’t blame them. He cursed his bad luck that such a horror came to his land. Bad as it was, the problem seemed to be contained for now. The only thing he had to worry about was a cat.

Esme’s cat looked at him as if to say ‘well, now what’, a valid question. He gave it some thought as he looked at the fresh grave and its hideous occupant. He wondered at the damage that wicked woman could have done, the lives that could have been lost, and he came to the conclusion that he rather liked cats.

This is the first part of Dead End, with Dana Illwind and Sorcerer Lord Jayden.

*****
“Dana, I do believe we can finally travel.”

Jayden’s cheerful voice made Dana sit up from where she was playing on the floor with a toddler boy. This was harder than it sounds, since the boy had no intention of losing his playmate and wrapped both arms around her. She staggered for a moment before grabbing him and carrying him to the window.

It wasn’t a cheerful sight. Dozens of fruit trees in straight lines were still bare of leaves. The ground was covered in wet snow as slippery as grease. Smoke rose from the chimneys of nearby houses even during the day.

“It wouldn’t be fast or dry,” she pointed out.

“A temporary situation. Look by those rocks. Green grass, proof that spring is upon us, and with it mobility.” Jayden rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation. “Muddy boots is a small price to pay for ending two months inactivity.”

“Ba,” the toddler said.

Dana rubbed his mop of messy yellow hair. “You’re not a sheep.”

“Ba, ba, ba. Da? Ba!”

The rest of the family they were staying with gathered around the lone window of their house. Grandfather Glen Stex, his two daughters, three daughters-in-law and fifteen grandchildren made for a large family. Dana and Jayden’s presence made their house even more crowded. Still, it was a cheerful place, and their hosts were always kind.

After destroying the undead horde hidden in Duke Wiskver’s estate, Jayden had been adamant on pursuing whoever had made the skeletal horrors. They’d marched to the nearest village, where Jayden introduced them as Stanly and his daughter May. He’d questioned the locals if there had been strangers or suspicious events in recent months. The residents had been happy to help, especially when Jayden started buying drinks.

Then the snow came. Winter storms were nothing to sneer at in the kingdom, and this one had been brutal. When the storm ended there was nearly two feet of dense snow, the kind that packed down easily and clung to boots. Walking a mile became a grueling challenge, and going to the next village was impossible.

Fortunately the villagers were only too happy to take them in until the weather improved. This didn’t surprise Dana. Merchants and travelers came to small villages like this only rarely, leaving residents starved for information on the outside world. So great was their isolation that they didn’t even have wanted posters for Jayden, surprising given how high the price on his head was. Jayden had insisted on paying for room and board, making Glen and his family even happier to have them. Their stay had been pleasant, but Jayden had chaffed at the delay as days stretched into weeks and then two months.

“I’d wait another two weeks if I were you,” Glen cautioned. “Roads are going to be thick mud where they’re not covered in ice.”

“Delightful as your company has been, I have work to do and limited time to complete it,” Jayden said. He shook Glen’s hand and smiled. “Your hospitality exceeded all expectations. I’m glad we met.”

“I’m not sure it counts as hospitality when you paid for everything you received,” Glen told him. “I’d have been happy with half what you offered.”

“Many men wouldn’t have opened their home up to strangers, a testament to your kindness and generosity,” Jayden replied. “Nevertheless, I fear our paths must separate.”

Glen opened the door for Jayden and Dana. “Let me at least walk you to the road.”

“It’s been wonderful spending time with you,” Dana told the women and children. She tried to hand off the little boy to his mother. Then she tried again. The boy’s grip tightened. “And, um, it was great getting to know you all. Come on, little guy.”

The toddler’s smile turned into a shockingly serious look. “No.”

“Some children’s first words are mama,” the boy’s mother said. The family laughed as Dana tried to pull the little boy off her.

“No! No, no no!”

A girl of eight years came up and put her hands on the little boy. “Sorry, he gets like this. You kind of have to pry him off. Mom, you get his left arm and I’ll get the right.”

The little boy’s face turned red as his sister and mother removed him from Dana. He made a humming sound that turned into a howl before screaming, “Dada!”

Dana looked away as the boy’s mother held him tight. He squalled and struggled to break free, his howls doubling in intensity when he saw Dana heading for the door.

“I told you not to play with him so much,” Jayden reminded her.

“I couldn’t help it. He’s cute.”

Glen picked up a wood ax by the door and went outside with them. “I’m sorry about that. He’s a good boy, strong willed and with a loving heart. He took it hard when his dad was conscripted. We all did.”

Dana and Jayden’s stay had provided fresh evidence of hardships in the kingdom. Glen was 57 years old, patriarch of his little clan and the only man left. Press gangs had come through the village in late autumn and forcibly enlisted Glen’s sons and son-in-laws. Each man was presented a spear, dagger, wood shield and uniform, and declared to be infantry in the king and queen’s army. Rumor was nearby villages had suffered similar losses, and farmers rich enough to own draft animals had lost those as well. Dana wondered how these people would run their farms.

She also wondered if men in her hometown were being conscripted. The king and queen had already called up the militia to serve, but many men weren’t in the militia. Life had been hard back home with so many farmers and ranchers gone, and could get even worse in press gangs came for the rest.

As they walked down the muddy, snowy road, Glen took a scrap of paper from his pocket and pressed it into Jayden’s hand. “These are my boys’ names and descriptions. Chances are you won’t meet them, but if you do, tell them we miss them, and we’re doing the best we can.”

Jayden studied the paper before slipping it into his backpack. “I’ll keep this with me, but I intend to avoid armies as much as possible.”

“No surprise when they’d impress you the second they got the chance.” Glen walked on in silence for a few more steps. “I can’t imagine why the king and queen need so many soldiers. I heard talk of trouble at the border with Kaleoth, but that’s a small kingdom. If war breaks out it would be a short one.”

“You’re following us farther than I’d expected,” Dana said.

Glen’s brow furrowed. “I don’t talk much about it, but there’s a frozen one hereabouts called Jenny Glass Eyes. Long ago a woman died in the cold and evil spirits moved into her body. She’s haunted these parts for decades, coming out on winter nights, scratching at doors trying to get inside, ambushing travelers when she can. I figure it’s too warm for her to come out if the snow is melting, but I want to be sure you two are safe.”

Dana smiled at him. “That’s very kind of you.”

“I got worried when you went out for a walk last month,” Glen told Jayden. “I wouldn’t have allowed it if I’d known you were going, but you left when I was in the barn. You seem like a clever sort, plenty strong, too, but Jenny Glass Eyes is tougher than she looks. I was plenty glad to see you come back that night.”

“I apologize for troubling you,” Jayden said.

“I understand staying indoors for weeks can be trying,” Glen said as they walked. He pointed at depressions in the snow. “Those must be your footprints. You went pretty far. Wait, what’s that?”

Ahead of them was a patch of bare ground covered in a layer of wet ashes. Glen approached it carefully with his ax held high in case there was danger. Up close they saw what looked like blackened bones mixed in the ashes. Most of the remains were unidentifiable, but there was a charred skeletal arm wearing a melted gold ring. Glen’s eyes opened wide, and he pointed his ax at it.

“That’s Jenny Glass Eyes!”

Dana went for her sword Chain Cutter hidden deep in her backpack. “You’re sure?”

“I saw that ring on her hand when she attacked me twenty years ago. Look, she’s missing her little finger. Back then I had to cut it off to get away.” Glen pointed at footprints in the snow, wider now that the snow was melting around them. “You can see where the fight happened. Those are her prints right there, and those ones are… yours.”

Glen’s face turned white as he looked at Jayden. Jayden’s earlier cheerfulness was replaced with a studious look. “I see a rose sprouting from the remains. Legends say when a frozen one dies a blue rose grows where it was destroyed. Check what color the flowers are in summer.”

“What kind of man are you?” Glen whispered.

“The kind who doesn’t tolerate abominations.” Jayden turned to face Glen. “It angers me such a threat was allowed to exist for so long, and pleased me greatly to end it. Good day, Glen. May the future be more merciful than the past.”

Dana and Jayden left without another word, leaving Glen dumbfounded behind them. Once they were far away, Dana said, “You should have taken me with to fight Jenny.”

“Doing so would have alerted our hosts. And I needed the exercise. When I heard it scratching at the door, I suspected it was a frozen one and went to deal with it. Frozen ones are legitimate threats to farmers, not sorcerer lords. I’m surprised its remains melted out before we left.”

“Do you think it had anything to do with the necromancer we’re after?”

Jayden frowned. “I thought so at first, but our generous host’s tale proves my concern baseless. This was a local threat that should have been slain long ago, further proof that the king and queen are delinquent in their duties. We were in the right place at the right time to remove the threat.”

“One of these days you’re going to get yourself killed,” she scolded him.

“Likely so, but I plan on taking a great many monsters like Jenny Glass Eyes with me before I go.”

This was typical of Jayden. He didn’t seek death, but he didn’t fear or respect it the way he should. Such a cavalier attitude was going to get him in trouble. They walked on in silence for a time before Dana spoke again.

“I’m sure you still want this necromancer. How do we find him?”

“The first way involves making inquiries among the locals in the hope that one of them saw or heard something ominous. This is risky because it might draw royal attention. It’s also time consuming, and futile if the necromancer resides in an isolated location where few would notice him.”

“Let me guess, the second way involves magic.”

“It does, and is even riskier. Sorcerer lords in ancient times developed a spell to detect other sorcerer lords. Generally they used it to find and kill one another, as they were a paranoid and vengeful lot, but it can be used to find any form of magic. I need a body of water to cast the spell on, and with winter over we should find one shortly.”

Dana frowned. “Exactly why is this risky?”

“Wizards from every school of magic crave privacy. You know of my mind cloud spell, which makes it hard for other wizards to find me. Rival schools of magic have their own ways to deter spying, some of which retaliate against the spy.”

“The necromancer made lots of skeletons once,” Dana said. “If he figures out he’s being watched, he could come looking for us with an army behind him.”

“We could be in serious danger, but I fear there is no choice. We lost two months in our hunt for the necromancer, giving him time to produce horrors similar or even greater to what we already saw. The longer he remains at large the more damage he can do. That means doing this the hard way.”

It took the better part of a day, but they found a narrow pond clear of ice. Jayden stood at one end and began chanting. The water turned choppy like someone was splashing in it. Waves grew until they were as tall as Dana and incredibly noisy. Jayden’s chanting grew louder until he clapped his hands together. The waves fell silent, and the water became as still and reflective as a mirror.

A tiny ripple formed in the water, then another. More ripples formed as if someone was dropping pebbles into the water. Dana tried counting them and stopped when she reached fifty. She waved her hand at the scattered ripples. “There can’t be this many wizards in the kingdom!”

“The spell detects any form of magic, including wizards, magic items and certain monsters.” Jayden pointed at a wide, shallow ripple near the middle of the pond. “That, for instance, is me. My mind cloud spell dissipates traces of magic left behind when I cast spells. A wizard hunting me wouldn’t be able to pinpoint my location, nor how powerful I am.”

“What about that big ripple at the edge?”

“It’s too strong to be a spell caster. I suspect a dragon or other powerful monster. There’s a dragon living in Kaleoth who’s been hibernating for three years. We used to have two living in the kingdom before the king and queen thought they could give them orders. Both dragons left for greener pastures, or at least more peaceful ones.”

Dana couldn’t see a pattern to the ripples or way to tell them apart. “How do you know which one is the necromancer?”

“I don’t. Our foe is powerful enough that his magic will be easier to detect if he casts a spell. If he is silent for a few days then the traces of magic I’m trying to detect will fade away. He may use spells to conceal his position the same way I do. But if he uses powerful magic no spell can hide him, and making a horde of undead like we saw at Wiskver’s estate qualifies. He did it once. I’m counting on him being rash enough to do so again.”

“If that happens we have a big fight on our hands.”

Jayden studied several of the larger ripples. “True. Some of these are much too close together. They’re likely magic items owned by nobles.”

“Do you use this spell to find old sorcerer lord treasuries?”

“If only I was so lucky. Magic items only show up when they’re used, making magic treasures buried a thousand years ago impossible to detect. In truth I’ve found this spell to be of questionable value. I can detect only some magic with it, and at such a great distance that it’s often long gone before I reach it. My hope is the necromancer doesn’t live far from Wiskver’s estate, or that he’s…that’s bad.”

Water in the middle of the pond suddenly spiked up three feet in the air before dropping back down. It did so again, and then a third time that didn’t fall back down.

“My, my, my, what an inquisitive little boy you are. Not many hunt me. Smart wizards don’t try.” The taunting voice came from the pond. It spoke with an accent that made the letter w sound like v.

“Smart wizards don’t degenerate into necromancy,” Jayden retorted.

“Cowards turn down power because they fear where it leads. I fear nothing. I see you, a brat and an impetuous fop. I saw through the eyes of my creations when you two idiots destroyed them.”

Jayden began chanting again. The pond began to ripple around the spike of water.

“Oh this is rich, like frosting on a cake. You think you can focus your spell to learn where I am? I’d forgotten how foolish apprentice wizards are. It’s embarrassing.”

The pond grew choppier until water shot into the air like a waterfall flowing in reverse. Only the part of the pond with the spike of water representing the necromancer’s magic remained unchanged. Dana pulled back and drew her sword. Jayden continued chanting.

“Do you want to know what’s funny? I’m not trying to hide from you. I could have broken this spell in seconds if I desired. I don’t care. Come to me. Fight me. Die. You wouldn’t be the first to follow those well-worn steps, nor will you be the last.”

Water in the pond shot thirty feet into the air. Suddenly the huge waves turned inward and hit the spike of water. Dana heard the necromancer’s taunting words change into frightened cries as the entire pond seemed to turn against itself.

“What did you do?” Dana demanded.

“He was foolish enough to allow me to determine his precise position. I used my detection spell to send a pulse of magic at him, nearly everything I had. I imagine it hurt.”

“You pile of maggot-infested dung! Two can play that game!”

The sky darkened around them and grew cold. Plants died and the few animals present fled. A globe of utter darkness formed over the pond. The globe hummed and shimmered before vanishing to reveal a hideous mockery of a man, with greasy white skin, tangled black hair, long nails and longer teeth. The monster wore only tattered bits of filthy clothing and stank like rotting meat. It was hunched over to fit in the globe, but now that it was free it bounded toward them on all fours. As it neared them, Dana felt a stab of pain followed by rage, like she had when the undead appeared at Wiskver’s estate.

Jayden cast a spell to form his black sword and met the monster head on. He swung at its legs, but the monster leaped over him and landed next to Dana. It howled and lunged at her face, its toothy maw opened wider than her head. She screamed and swung her sword. Sword met teeth, and Chain Cutter hacked through the monster’s yellowed fangs. Pain should have driven it back, but the monster rammed into her and knocked her onto her back.

The monster leaped at her with outstretched hands, claws reaching for her throat, when Jayden drove his sword through its back with a powerful overhand swing. He speared the beast, pinning it to the ground. The monster shrieked and tried to reach Dana. She got to her feet and swung Chain Cutter, hacking off the monster’s right arm. Another swing took off the left one. Anything else should have died, yet the monster howled and struggled to reach her.

“Enough!” Jayden roared. He pressed his left foot against the monster’s back and pulled his black sword up, cutting the beast in two. Once his sword was free he brought it down again, removing the monster’s head. The air chilled again, and Jayden turned to see another black globe forming. He charged it, and as the globe dissolved to release another monster as wretched as the first, he plunged his sword into it. The monster’s howls died stillborn as his sword went through its heart.

“Send another barrow wight!” Jayden yelled. “Send three, a dozen, a hundred! There’s nothing your foul magic can produce that I can’t kill!”

“We shall see, little mage,” the taunting voice said with its strange accent. It grew softer as it spoke for the last time. “All that lives must one day die.”

Dana ran over to Jayden. The monster he’d impaled was blackening and crumbling away until there was nothing left of it. Once it was entirely gone, he marched back to the first one and drove his black sword into each piece, destroying those as well.

“He’s stronger than I’d feared,” Jayden said as his sword destroyed the final piece of the monster. “Barrow wights are as hideous as they are uncontrollable. Bending two of them to his will is difficult, and sending them over such a great distance staggeringly hard.”

Dana stared at the ashes at her feet, the only sign that there had been a fight. “I never saw your sword do that.”

“In times long past this land was infested with necromancers, some working alone and others in cabals dozens strong. They damaged both the people and the land itself. Shadow magic was developed in direct response to the threat of necromancy and is especially potent against it. Early sorcerer lords hunted down those necromancers and slew them.”

“Then why is he willing to fight you?”

Jayden let his magic sword dissipate. “Sorcerer lords died out long ago. I daresay my spells will come as a surprise to him. But that is a small advantage, and he has large ones. The necromancer has power to spare, time to use it, and royal support. Most necromancers live in fear of the law, constantly moving, never able to build laboratories or spell libraries. Our foe has no such concern, and my spell tracked him to where he has no shortage of human remains.”

Worried, Dana asked, “A graveyard?”

“The biggest and most isolated in the kingdom. Heaven help us, it’s not far away.”

Spring days were short, and they had to make camp not long after Jayden confirmed the necromancer’s location. There were no villages here, just wilderness encroaching onto old fields. Jayden said these lands once had farms, but they’d been destroyed in the civil war and were never resettled. Eventually they found the ruins of an old church and took shelter there.

“We’re fortunate to find this church in more ways than one,” Jayden said as he piled up loose boards and dry brush over the doorway. “The ceiling is intact, no animals or monsters have occupied the building, and I feel lingering holy influences. The necromancer’s creations may be unable to force their way in.”

“I feel it, too,” Dana said. She unrolled a blanket and used her backpack as a pillow. “It’s sort of a calm feeling, like the church is waiting for people to come back.”

“We have a long walk tomorrow, and possibly a battle with the necromancer. Sleep well, Dana, for the future will be taxing.”

Before she went to bed, Dana asked, “What if he runs away?”

“He has little reason to flee with the power and resources at his command. He can comfortably wait until we come to him and face him at his strongest.”

Dana was tired and wanted to sleep, but she forced herself to stay awake. That was difficult under a warm blanket on a cold night. She stayed quiet and motionless, waiting for what she knew was going to happen. She could only guess what time it was when she heard Jayden get up and collect his belongings. She let him go a few steps before speaking.

“Go back to sleep, Jayden.”

He stopped but didn’t turn to face her. “I’m trying to be gallant. Pick a direction other than the one I’m taking and you’ll be safe.”

“You’re not trying to be gallant. You are gallant. You’d go into a fight alone that you might lose if that means I live. The necromancer knows there are two of us. I get the feeling he’d kill me, even use his magic on me after I’m dead and send me after you. The only way I’m getting out alive is with you, and I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I don’t think you’re getting through this alive without me.”

“Your prediction is possibly, even likely given how morally degenerate our enemy is.” He set his belongings down and wrapped himself in his blanket. “It’s strange. I’m grateful we met, yet terrified and ashamed at the same time. I’ve been alone for so long partly because I never wanted to be in this position. I have few friends, Dana. I can’t lose one.”

* * * * *

Morning came, and Dana was relieved to see that Jayden hadn’t left in the night. She recognized how brave he was to try facing this madman alone, but she’d seen him hurt in fights and nearly killed by Wall Wolf. Jayden needed her just as much as the kingdom needed him.

“Our destination has no name by design,” Jayden explained as they headed out after breakfast. “The king and queen wanted its location unknown, as well as its occupants, for the graveyard contains rebels who died in the civil war.”

“My parents never told me much about the war,” Dana admitted.

“They likely knew very little. The king and queen worked hard to erase less savory aspects of our kingdom’s history.” Jayden grimaced as he spoke. “Rebels in the civil war were needlessly brutal, causing considerable damage to infrastructure like bridges, dams, canals, granaries, even schools. If they couldn’t hold territory, they made sure the victors would gain no benefit from it. Nor were they merciful to prisoners or civilians.

“The king and queen were equally brutal. They ordered fallen rebels buried in mass graves without headstones or memorials. These mass graves were placed deep in the wilderness and in utter secrecy. In theory this meant the gravesites couldn’t become rallying points for rebels eager to avenge their losses.”

Dana thought back to the graveyard outside her hometown. It wasn’t visited often since people had so much work to do, but the entire town went there on the first day of the year, drinking toasts to their ancestors and sharing stories of loved ones who had passed on. It was a time of celebration and remembrance. Originally Brotherhood of the Righteous priests led the event, but her father did the honors after the priests were expelled from the kingdom.

“That’s terrible, and stupid,” she said.

“It didn’t stop there. The king and queen declared that rebels lost their property. Farms, livestock, coins, legal rights, it was all forfeit.”

“What happens to their things?”

There was fierceness in Jayden’s voice when he answered. “It went to the crown. Loyalist forces were clamoring for rewards for their services, and they accepted rebel property in lieu of cash. Widows and orphans who had already lost so much were evicted and made beggars. Many of them had no involvement with the civil war. Their men went to war because treacherous noblemen ordered them to fight or forced them to, and their families suffered for it.”

“How do you force someone to fight for you?” Dana asked. “Give a guy a sword and he could use it on you instead of your enemies.”

“The first way is to seize his loved ones and hold them hostage. The second way is to put unwilling soldiers in the front of your army and dependable troops behind them. They can’t run without being cut down by their enemies or their allies.” He saw Dana’s terrified expression and added, “I did say the rebels were brutal.”

“It doesn’t sound like there was a good side in the fight,” she said reluctantly.

“There could have been. The king and queen refused to let Brotherhood of the Righteous priests bless the bodies or hold funerals for defeated rebels. Priests argued these blessings made sure bodies couldn’t be inhabited by foul spirits or used by necromancers. The king and queen didn’t care. Denying rebels even such a basic right was another way to take revenge. Our enemy is camped on one of those mass graves. We are paying the price for the king and queen’s act of spite.”

“That’s how the necromancer made his army!” Dana exclaimed. “I couldn’t figure out where he got the bones for all those walking skeletons at Duke Wisker’s estate, but he’s got an entire cemetery to dig up.”

“The bones were from men who died fighting, so many were badly damaged. I believe the necromancer experimented with replacing destroyed or missing limbs with bones taken from animals.”

Fearing the answer, Dana asked, “How many men were buried there?”

“I don’t know. The necromancer may have looted other mass graves. Worse still, you saw the barrow wights he sent after us yesterday. He may have other undead more dangerous than animated skeletons.” Jayden stopped walking and turned to face her. “I don’t exaggerate when I say this battle may be more than I can handle. Your life is in mortal peril if you come with me.”

“What happens if we don’t stop him?” she asked.

“The necromancer will continue amassing undead followers for uses too horrifying to contemplate. The king and queen will try to use these abominations in their war. Perhaps the necromancer will humor them and send his minions to fight their battles, but it’s equally possible he’ll unleash his nightmare army against the two of them. Innocent people will die by the thousands or tens of thousands before he’s stopped.”

“Who can we call on for help who could get here in time?”

Jayden paused. “Reginald Lootmore and Suzy Lockheart are too far away to reach us in time. I don’t know where Ian McShootersun is. Other men I know lack the power or skill to make a significant impact. They would be targets rather than assets. I might be able to convince nobles or army officers of the danger and get their aid, but they have little reason to believe me when I’m a wanted man.”

“Then you need me.” Before he could argue, she said, “He’s got to be stopped. If you fight him alone he’ll swarm you with skeletons and wights. I’m not a sorcerer lord, or lady, I guess, but I can help. You need friends, Jayden, and right now I’m it.”

He smiled at her. “It’s ironic. The harder I try to keep you safe by excluding you, the harder you insist on remaining.”

“You could have more help, you know. There are people who like you and could fight. And let’s face it, you’re going to run into more big battles, not fewer.”

“More fights like this,” he said ruefully. “Dana, you have no idea how many battles I’ve fought, how many enemies I’ve defeated—”

“How many people you’ve saved?”

“There is that. I’ve done much, yet there is so much more to do. This battle will be terrible, and you’re right that coming battles will be as bad or worse. Would you stand with me through that, knowing it will never end?”

“We saved hundreds of children and young girls sold as property. I’ll stand with you through anything to save even one more.”

They spent much of the day heading deeper into the wilderness. Abandoned farmhouses gave way to scrub forests thick with briars and weeds. The roads had already been muddy and narrow, but as they went on the few roads shrank into narrow game trails. Wildlife was rare so early in spring, yet they saw not one bird or rodent.

“Hey, it’s our anniversary,” she said playfully.

Jayden stared at her. “Our what?”

“We first met on this day one year ago.”

“I’m surprised you keep track of the date,” he said. “You know, it’s embarrassing, but outside family members or servants, this is the longest I’ve known a woman.”

Dana laughed. “What about those two girls you told me about?”

“The first young lady and I were together for eight months. The second lasted only eight weeks. I have difficulties with relationships. I’m told I rub people the wrong way when I don’t offend them intentionally.”

Feeling mischievous, Dana asked, “And how long were you with Suzy Lockheart?”

“She and I weren’t together in any sense of the word. We were in the general vicinity of one another for less than a month total, although it felt like years spent in purgatory.”

“You were a little rough around the edges when we first met, but you’re doing better these days.” Jayden gave her a questioning glance, and she went on. “You don’t lose your temper as often, and insults and snide remarks are way down.”

“Judging by that left handed compliment, you’ve taken it upon yourself to compensate for my good behavior.”

“It’s good you’re getting better around people. You deserve to have healthy relationships like you did when you were a boy. Maybe you could fall in love. No, seriously, there’s a woman my hometown who…oh.” Dana stopped marching. “Oh dear.”

“Not a cheerful sight,” Jayden agreed.

Ahead of them was a wide path beaten through the undergrowth. Seven men could have walked down it side by side, and the thick growth of plant life had been trampled into the muddy ground. Strange as this path already was, trees growing alongside it were dead, their blackened bark peeling off in strips. Normally hardy weeds sprouted this time of year, but here they were stunted and brown. Dana touched a dead tree, only for it to topple onto the path.

“One way leads to our foe, the other to Duke Wiskver’s estate,” Jayden declared.

“How did the necromancer get so many walking skeletons into Wiskver’s estate without anyone noticing?”

“I imagine Wiskver brought them to his property inside armored wagons, the same way he did the slaves.” Jayden ran his fingers along a dead tree branch. “The necromancer may have used magic to temporarily mask the natural aversion all life has to the undead.”

The branch crumbled apart under Jayden’s gentle touch and fell to the ground. He scowled and drew back his hand. “I have to wonder how Wiskver thought he could profit from such monsters. They don’t require food, drink or rest, but how could he have used them as laborers without others noticing? How could he think such bloodthirsty monstrosities would consent to cutting timber or tending crops?”

“How close are we to the graveyard?” Dana asked.

“Close enough I should take precautions. Hold still.”

“What are you,” she began, but stopped when Jayden placed the palms of both hands on her forehead. He began to chant and his fingers grew warm. Dana waited for him to finish before she asked, “What did you do?”

“I placed a mind shield on you. It will last long enough for our purposes. As you don’t cast spells it won’t hide you from magical detection, but it protects you from the fury you felt when near the undead.” He smirked and added, “Blinding rage has its uses, but your best feature has always been your mind, and I need it to be as keen as your sword.”

Dana held up Chain Cutter. “Can wizards sense my sword?”

“You saw how unfocused my detection spell was. Your sword will register as one of hundreds of magic sources with no way to determine what it is or who wields it.”

“That’s helpful, I guess.” Dana paused when she saw green among the dead plants. “Jayden, look, that plant is growing. I didn’t think anything would—”

The tiny weed grew so fast it shot across the ground, spreading new leaves and sinking deep roots before lashing out at Dana. She screamed and swung her sword, hacking the plant in half, only for it to sprout four new ends that wrapped around her and pinned her to the ground.

More vines grew outrageously fast and headed for Jayden. He barely had time to cast a spell that formed a shield of spinning black blades in front of him. Vines grappled the shield, were shredded, regrew and were shredded again when they hit the shield. He cast another spell to form his black sword and cut off the vines holding Dana. For a moment the floral assault paused.

“Why does this not surprise me?” a familiar voice called out.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dana said as she got up.

“Green Peril?” Jayden asked in disbelief.

It was the elven wizard, wreathed in living vines as he emerged from the ruined forest. He wore the same white and green robes as when they’d last seen him in Fish Bait City. His face was as handsome and sneering as ever, but there was one big difference in his appearance. Jayden had destroyed the elf’s staff in their previous battle. Green Peril held a new one, dark red like blood made solid, and with a cluster of opals near the tip. Dana didn’t know much about magic even after a year traveling with Jayden, but this staff looked impressive.

“Birds in the sky told me they’d found you but dared not approach. Land soaked in death and suffering, unhallowed and unwelcome to all life, this would scare anyone with wits and working eyes. Yet this is where I find you.”

“Don’t you know when to quit?” Jayden demanded as he stepped between Dana and the elf. “The last time we fought you ran for your life! You didn’t bring allies for this battle, proof you learned nothing from our encounter.”

“The last time we fought you had help! No ghost is here to save you, but that would explain your destination. Do you seek to recruit another tortured soul?”

“Shadow magic doesn’t work that way, you pampered twit! You’d know that if you’d done even the most rudimentary research into the man you’re trying to kill.”

“Why are you even here?” Dana asked. “The king and queen must have hired a court wizard by now.”

“I’d have heard about it if your idiot king and shrewish queen had accepted another wizard into their service,” Green Peril retorted. “Even if they don’t honor their promise made months ago or pay the ever growing bounty on your head, I have reason enough to hunt you down after you humiliated me! I suffered endless insults for losing to a human! Your death will cleanse the stain upon my honor.”

Green Peril held his staff in front of him. “I learned new spells, and spent a fortune in gold and promises to lesser elves to produce my staff. Blood wood harvested from a willing tree, carved with the finest tools, imbued with nature magic, it is the ultimate weapon.”

Dana’s brow furrowed. “Lesser elves?”

“Each elf thinks himself superior to all other elves,” Jayden told her.

“I had to grovel to get the blood wood!” Green Peril yelled. He drew a step closer to them, and to Dana’s surprise green grass sprouted and seeds burst into life. That hadn’t happened the last time they’d seen the elf. It made her think his replacement staff was as powerful as he claimed.

“That’s just peachy,” Dana interrupted. “You got your stick finished in time to use against an actual enemy instead of someone who saves lives.”

“What’s your pet babbling about?” Green Peril asked.

Before Jayden could issue an angry reply, Dana said, “We’re chasing a necromancer who made an army of walking skeletons and hid them in a duke’s estate. We killed them, and we’re after the necromancer before he makes more.”

Green Peril laughed. “Do you seriously expect me to believe that?”

“Look, these plants died a long time before we got here. Jayden’s magic didn’t kill plants the last time you two fought, or he would have won even quicker than he did.”

Before the elf could answer, Jayden said, “I’m facing what could be the biggest battle of my life against a man who will do unspeakable acts if left alive. I can’t afford to exhaust myself beating you hours before doing battle with the necromancer.”

Green Peril hesitated, given Dana hope that this meeting could end peacefully. The elf wizard retreated a few steps and pointed his staff at a tree left half dead by the necromancer’s magic. He cast a spell, and to Dana’s amazement the tree’s branches bent like they were made of loose cloth.

“Brother tree, friend to elves since ancient times, speak to me,” Green Peril said to the tree. Normally Dana considered talking to trees to be a bad sign, but it made a rustling, whispering noise as it moved. It waved branches along the trail of devastation, and it trembled as if in fear. Green Peril’s face turned pale, and he placed a hand against its trunk.

“You have suffered much, brother,” Green Peril said solemnly. He cast another spell, and fresh growth burst from the trunk to replace what it had lost. The tree stopped moving as Green Peril turned to face Dana and Jayden. “You speak the truth, a shocking a turn of events.”

“Then can we call off this senseless vendetta?” Jayden asked.

Green Peril bared his teeth in a snarl, only gradually regaining self-control. “Vulgar and brutal as you are, there is a greater foe I must deal with. I declare a truce until this perversion of a man is destroyed. After that, no promises.”

“Fair enough,” Jayden replied. “We haven’t far to go to reach him.”

“I said truce, not partnership,” Green Peril snapped. “I’d sooner fight alongside an drunken ogre with lice than trust you not to put a dagger in my back. The only concession I’ll make is to care for your pet girl after you’re dead. What’s her name again?”

Dana slapped a hand over her face. “I can’t believe this.”

Jayden spat in disgust. “This necromancer is a threat like none I’ve faced, and we are mere miles from the graveyard he plunders for bodies. He knows I’m coming and is not intimidated. Battling him together stands the best chance of success. Claim you lead us if it sooths your bloated ego, but if you go alone don’t expect to do anything except die.”

The two wizards stared at one another in mutual loathing. Jayden had often told Dana how ancient sorcerer lords fought one another. Watching these two, she had no trouble believing the tales.

“We’ll let you have any treasure or magic he has,” Dana offered. A shocked look from Jayden made her hastily add, “Minus sorcerer lord spell tablets.”

Green Peril hesitated. “And I get to claim leadership of the expedition?”

“If that’s what it takes to keep you two from butchering each other before we even reach the necromancer.”

“We have a deal. I won’t insult either of us by offering to ‘shake on it’, as you clearly don’t want to and I don’t know what diseases the two of you carry.” Green Peril headed down the trail of devastation. “Come along.”

This is the conclusion of Dead End with Dana Illwind and Sorcerer Lord Jayden.

*****
Jayden grumbled as he followed. Dana saw him smirk, and before she could stop him he asked, “How is your job hunt coming along?”

Green Peril stopped and glared at Jayden. Hoping to distract him, Dana ran alongside the elf and asked, “What did the tree say to you?”

“She said months ago a great host of undead marched through these woods, destination unknown,” the elf replied. “They had trouble passing through the dense stand of trees and thick underbrush, so a human created the path we walk on by blighting the land. Once the way was clear the undead marched on and the necromancer returned to where he’d come from. She asked me to find this wretch and rip him limb from limb.”

Puzzled, she said, “That’s kind of vicious.”

“Trees are bitter and vindictive,” the elf told her. “Most of the time they don’t get to strike back at their enemies. When she saw me she thought, rightly so, that I was willing to pay back this monster in full.”

Green Peril marched on. “She also said this land has been abandoned and neglected for decades. When I become court wizard, and I will, I shall oversee the restoration of this kingdom. Clearly humans aren’t up to the task.”

“Before we go any farther, Jayden knows a spell to shield you from the whole ‘kill everything’ feeling you get by being close to walking skeletons,” she told him. “I’m sure he won’t mind casting it on you.”

“I have my own shielding magic, child, far superior to anything this wretch could offer. I gather you are desperate to travel with this clod and depend on his outdated spells. It doesn’t speak well of this land that a child should need a criminal’s aid. Never fear, soon enough you’ll be able to go back to your mud hut and live in peace.”

Dana looked over to Jayden. “I tried. I really did.”

“Don’t expect better from him. That we’re not ripping one another to pieces is a testament to your kind nature, but this is all we can ask for.”

Their journey was tense from their grim surroundings and the constant tension between the two wizards. Dana stayed between them as a badly needed buffer, but she had little success in tamping down their hate. After two hours they reached what had to be their destination.

The trail ended in a wide valley flanked by steep hills. Trees had once grown here in abundance. In their place was blackened trunks tipped over at sharp angles. There were no animals, nor signs that anyone had ever lived in the valley. A huge earthen mound two hundred feet long and twenty feet wide dominated the valley’s center. Dana saw a long, deep gash running down the center of the mound.

“Welcome!” an echoing voice called out. Dana recognized the necromancer’s strange accent. She couldn’t pinpoint the voice’s source as it bounced between the high hills. “I see you brought another fool eager to die! You surprise me, sorcerer lord! I’d been told you only traveled with this brat!”

A lone man stepped out from the edge of the long mound. Dana had met several wizards in the last year, all of them flamboyant, like they wanted the world to see them. In contrast the necromancer was bland, with average height and weight, short brown hair, balding in the front and wearing simple leather clothes. He carried no staff or weapons, nor did he have jewelry. If she’d met him on a street rather than a mass grave, she wouldn’t have given him another thought.

“I’m awed you would face me,” the necromancer continued. He walked casually, watching his guests but taking no action against them. “You might as well have walked into a dragon’s lair. The results would have been faster and less painful.”

“Where are his creations?” Green Peril whispered.

“I don’t know,” Jayden answered softly. “He sent two barrow wights against me earlier, but that can’t be the extent of his servants. He’s out of range for my spells. Yours?”

“The same. He planned his entrance well.”

The necromancer stopped and pointed at Green Peril. “You? Ha! This day gets better with every second! I’d heard about the elf sent to kill the sorcerer lord. You thought you were going to be the king and queens official wizard, and you couldn’t kill one man.”

“There were no witnesses to that battle except these two and the Shrouded One,” Green Peril said. “How would you know of it?”

“People in Fish Bait City found a dead plant monster in the streets,” the necromancer told him. “They told their nobleman, he told the king and queen, and when they heard Jayden was still in the kingdom it was clear what had happened.” The necromancer grinned like an idiot. “In case you were wondering, the job offer has been revoked. The king and queen have no need of failures when a better choice is available.”

“What do you mean?” Jayden demanded.

“You are dull, boy.” The necromancer bowed and said, “Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Cimmox Valgor, unofficial court wizard to the king and queen.”

Green Peril bellowed, “They wouldn’t be depraved enough to accept a necromancer into their service!”

“I don’t share your faith in them,” Jayden said softly.

“Accept me?” Cimmox asked slyly. “They sought me out! The king and queen plan a grand and glorious war. Losses promise to be staggering, but I can make the dead serve again regardless of which side they were on. Friends, enemies, civilians, whoever they were, they will fight in my name once they’re dead. The king and queen can lose an army, and I can give it back.”

“Good God,” Dana said.

Cimmox pointed at Jayden. “The king and queen told me much of you, secrets gleaned from those who saw you in battle. Let that be a lesson to you, boy, leave no witnesses. I hear you seek to overthrow the royal couple, maybe take their place. Ha! Do you want to know a secret?”

Jayden formed his black sword. “Do tell.”

“All your years fighting didn’t matter one bit. The king and queen have replaced everything you took from them. They sent word to the dangerous, the desperate and the depraved. Come, they said! Come and serve, your crimes forgotten, your sins ignored, and rich rewards for the taking.

“Come they did. Gladiators from Battle Island, beast tamers from Quoth, wizards of the Inspired and more gather in record numbers, promised gold and positions of power in return for shedding blood in the king and queen’s name. Every foe you bested has been replace two times over. You may as well have done nothing.”

Jayden was silent for a moment, staring at the necromancer in such disgust that even that twisted madman took a step back. When Jayden spoke, it was like the wrath of the underworld being unleashed.

“You heard of my victories against the king and queen’s soldiers. Gargoyles, a chimera, Wall Wolf the iron golem, all these and more fought me and died. I’ve faced your inexcusably foul creations and slew them, as any sane man would. All this you know, yet you’d face me. What madness made you think you’d win? What idiocy made you think you ever stood a chance against me?”

“Oh dear,” Dana said. She could feel an entire year’s work trying to temper Jayden’s rage slip away.

Jayden marched toward the necromancer. “You claim to be one of many degenerates called to arms by the king and queen. You freaks and nightmares came a long way to die. You should have stayed in whatever hole you’d been hiding in, because now you stand before me, and nothing under heaven can save you.”

Cimmox stared at Jayden before saying, “You would have made a fine necromancer. Instead you’ll make fine parts for my next creation. You’ve met some of my followers. Let me show you the rest.”

The great earthen mound heaved like a living thing before the gash in it opened wide to vomit out masses of the undead. Walking skeletons made up the bulk of the unspeakable horde, but Dana saw barrow wights loping like wolves among their lesser cousins. More and more abominations poured forth as if they would never stop coming. None carried weapons beyond their sharp teeth and claws. The crowd of nightmares howled like wild beasts.

“Let them come to us,” Green Peril said. He planted the tip of his staff into the ground and cast a spell. His red staff sprouted roots that sunk deep into the ground before growing forward as fast as a galloping horse. The vanguard of the skeletal army covered half the distance to them when a tree root as thick as a wine barrel and fifty feet long burst from the ground and swept over the undead. Thirty of the horrors were crushed to pieces. The root made another swing and battered apart still more, but the rest of the horde grappled the root and ripped it apart.

The time this bought them was well spent as Jayden finished chanting. Dana recognized the spell and braced for the coming explosion. When he finished a single spark drifted toward the oncoming horde.

Green Peril watched the spark float along. “You must be joking.”

“Wait for it,” Jayden told him.

BOOM! Jayden’s fireball burst among the front of the undead, swallowing them up like so much kindling. Dana had seen this spell before, but this time something was different. The fire grew with each skeleton and barrow wight it consumed, as if they were fueling it. The blast grew and grew until it was double its normal size before burning out.

Jayden’s spell had cost the undead army a quarter of its size, yet more came up from the grave to replenish their numbers. They spread out to avoid being caught by another fireball. Behind them Cimmox laughed like this was a grand joke. Dana didn’t know why he stayed out of the battle, but every second he did gave them a chance.

Green Peril took a jar from inside his robes and uncorked it. He poured out dozens of tiny green beetles and cast a spell on them. The beetles swelled up, doubling in size every second until they were as big as hounds. Green Peril pointed his staff at the oncoming undead, and the beetles charged into the horde, their sharp jaws cutting skeletons apart.

“You have an army of bugs?” Cimmox mocked him. “All things die, elf, even the undead. Let me show you.”

Cimmox finally cast a spell, and ten skeletons in the front of the army suddenly turned black. One said, “Hey, what’s going on?”

BOOM! The black skeletons exploded, destroying themselves, nearby skeletons and all of Green Peril’s beetles. Cimmox laughed again as his surviving monstrosities surged forward.

The horde was almost upon them when Jayden turned to face Dana. She saw the concern in his eyes. Dana held up her left hand and said, “Jayden, wait, I—”

Jayden cast one last spell before the nightmarish horde struck them. He spoke strange words that caused shadows to bend and twist until they formed a fierce suit of black armor with razor sharp edges. Pieces of the suit flew through the air before hitting Dana, locking in place over her until she was covered head to toe in black magic armor.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she said. The armor was menacing, yet so light it felt like she was wearing only a summer dress. Somehow she could see through the helmet even though it had no eye slits. Her fingers on both hands ended in thick, sharp claws, barely flexible enough to hold her sword.

Then the horde hit them. Dana lost sight of Jayden and Green Peril as skeletons swarmed around them as thick as stalks of wheat in a farm field. She tried to stay close to the two wizards and failed utterly in the face of overwhelming numbers. Dana swung her sword with wild abandon and sliced apart the first two skeletons to reach her.

A hideous skeleton made of both human and bull bones pushed its way to the front of the crowd. “I want the little one!”

Dana charged the mismatched skeleton, hacking apart a smaller skeleton that tried to tackle her. She swung once and took off the large skeleton’s right arm before slicing through its right leg. The skeleton fell to its knees. Somehow looking surprised even without a face, it asked, “Can we talk this over?”

A barrow wight bounded onto the crippled skeleton, crushing it underfoot before leaping onto Dana. It hit her with enough force to knock her over. Once she was down the barrow wight bit her right arm. Its teeth scratched her shadowy armor without penetrating. Dana swung her left arm into the barrow wight’s head, and the wight howled in agony before staggering back. Its head was blackened and crumbling under her blow.

Dana got up and punched it again, watching her blow burn its chest. Jayden’s shadow magic was especially dangerous against necromancy, and that clearly included her armor. The wight tried to flee, but she was on it in a flash and impaled it. The wight howled even louder as its entire body blackened and fell apart.

“What was that?” Dana asked. In seconds she remembered that Chain Cutter had been made in part with Jayden’s shadow magic. It must share his magic’s destructive effect on the undead.

The horde of undead parted as a giant plant with a toothy maw grew up from nothing in their midst. Skeletons to Dana’s right screamed in panic as a giant plant monster leaned down and gobbled them up. It was like the plant Green Peril had used against Jayden in Fish Bait City. The huge plant leaned down to snap up another mouthful.

Fortune turned against them as a crackling black bolt shot through the air and hit the plant monster in the side. It toppled over under the assault, and Dana had to run to avoid it landing on her. Four skeletons weren’t as fast and were crushed beneath it. The plant hadn’t even hit the ground when it started rotting, and in seconds it was nothing more than festering slime.

“Did seeing your plant die hurt?” Cimmox taunted them. “I hope it hurt.”

Skeletons piled on Dana while she was distracted. She braced her feet against the ground and pushed into them, knocking them back. She punched and kicked the skeletons, taking them apart piece by piece. She grabbed one skeleton in a bear hug, and her armor burned it with shadow magic. One skeleton bit her shoulder and dented her armor, only for the monster to be burned away. She finished the last one with a swing of Chain Cutter.

Jayden ran past her with his shield of spinning black daggers in front of him, grinding up skeletons in his way. A single skeleton jumped him from behind and wrapped its arms around his throat. He staggered under the attack before a vine seized the skeleton, pulled it off and crushed it against the ground.

“Jayden!” she shouted.

“Keep away from Green Peril!” he shouted. “He’s using spells that cover a wide area.”

Just then a forest of wood spears shot up from the ground, impaling countless undead on their sharp tips. The spears quivered before launching into the air. They came down on more undead and destroyed scores of them.

That cleared enough space for Dana to see the elf. Vines wrapped around his body grappled skeletons and crushed them. A barrow wight leaped over the vines and tried to claw his face. Green Peril swung his staff and struck his foe in the chest. The opals on the staff flashed, and the barrow wight disappeared in a blast of light.

“The horde is thinning,” Jayden told Dana. “If we reach Cimmox, we can deal with the source of the problem.”

“What about Green Peril?” she asked.

Jayden and Dana turned at the sound of horrid screaming, and saw thick roots crushing two barrow wights and dragging them underground.

“I think he’ll manage,” Jayden said dryly. “Come on.”

Dana and Jayden charged through the scattered ranks of undead. A skeleton lunged at Dana and scratched her breastplate. She swung her sword and took off its arm, leaving Jayden to finish it with a sword strike to its chest. Jayden’s shield of daggers cut through three more skeletons before it gave out under the strain. Once it was down a dozen skeletons mobbed them and fought them to a standstill. Dana struck down two while Jayden cut four more apart. Seconds later a boulder flew through the air and flattened the last six. They turned to see Green Peril pull another boulder loose from the ground with the vines twined around him and hurl it into another skeletal mob.

“You don’t leave your leader behind!” Green Peril yelled at them. He frowned and added, “Admittedly I’ve done so, even robbed a few of them, but it was justified.”

Cimmox saw them coming and laughed. “That fight forced you to use your best spells while I used only two. It’s embarrassing. Doesn’t anyone conserve their magic these days? Let me show you what I saved just for you.”

The necromancer uttered strange, hateful words and made intricate gestures with his hands. Dead trees near him rotten away into a slimy goo from his foul spell. No sooner had he finished then bones littering the valley rose up and flew to him.

“Wait, I can still fight!” a skeleton pleaded before it was ripped to pieces and carried off into the air, as were all the skeletons still standing. Broken bones joined the cloud, as did those reduced to splinters in the fight. Still more bones shot up from the gash in the burial mound to form a dense cloud around the necromancer. The cloud tightened as bones linked together in a revolting mass twenty feet across with the necromancer standing on top of it.

“How do you like it?” Cimmox asked. The huge, barrel shaped skeletal creation stood up on six legs as thick as tree trunks and ending in wicked claws as long as a man’s arm. It had no head or eyes, but the many skulls in it had red light pouring from their eye sockets. “It won’t last long, but it doesn’t need to.”

Green Peril yelled, “You destroyed what was left of your own army!”

“I made them to expend them,” Cimmox replied casually. “I mourn them no more than an archer does for the arrows he fires. The king and queen are eager to have Jayden’s head. Yours means nothing to them. Let’s see if you’re smart enough to run.”

“Go left and I’ll go right,” Jayden said to Green Peril. The two wizards split up. Dana followed Jayden.

“Smart enough to master magic, yet dumb enough to stay in a losing fight,” Cimmox said. He picked a leg bone out of his creation and pointed it at Dana. “This is a battle of wizards. Children aren’t welcome.”

“Get down!” Jayden yelled.

Cimmox cast a spell, and the bone glowed before exploding into a stream of bone needles that flew through the air. Dana tried to get behind a dead tree, but she was too slow. The needles hit without puncturing her armor, instead cutting long grooves across the back and left side.

“Wretch!” Green Peril screamed. His next spell caused plants to grow around him and spray the necromancer’s foul creation with orange sap, gluing two of its legs together.

“Oh be quiet,” Cimmox said tiredly. He spoke vile, hateful words before vomiting up a stream of black liquid, far more than he could possibly hold in his stomach. The steaming liquid hit the vines wrapped around Green Peril and melted them away. The elf avoided the noxious stream only by diving into the mud. “Now then, where were we?”

Cimmox’s gloating expression turned into one of terror when a giant black hand missed him by inches. Instead the blow connected with his skeletal mount and staggered it. Jayden was running to Dana and made a swinging motion with his right hand. The black hand mirrored his movements and hit the huge skeletal monster again.

“That is enough,” Cimmox snarled. “I met an old friend of yours while I was waiting for you to arrive. No introductions are needed for one of his status.”

Cimmox cast another spell and formed a large black sphere behind Dana and Jayden. It was much bigger than the one he’d used to send the barrow wights against them, and Dana could see why when it dissolved to show its horrible contents. It was the Living Graveyard, back from the dead yet again.

“It’s a pleasure to work with one created when necromancers and sorcerer lords fought for this land so long ago,” Cimmox said. “Let’s see which one of us kills you first.”

Dana and Jayden took cover in a grove of dead trees. She turned to him and said, “You and Green Peril fight the wizard. I’ll keep the Living Graveyard back.”

“You can’t fight him alone,” Jayden said.

“A year ago I couldn’t. I can now because of you. We beat him before I had Chain Cutter or you could make this armor. Trust me.”

The giant skeleton brought one of its huge legs down on the grove. It crushed three trees and toppled two more, forcing Dana and Jayden to fall back. Cimmox laughed and the Living Graveyard marched toward them.

Green Peril ran over to them, filthy, out of breath and bruised. He opened his mouth, but suddenly his eyes opened wide in surprised. He looked at them and said, “I can stop Cimmox, but I need time. Can you keep him busy for two minutes?”

Jayden looked at Dana and Green Peril, fear visible on his face. As a boy he’d lost everything, and this fight could cost him what little he’d clawed back. Fear gave way to resolve, and he stepped out from the shattered grove. “Two minutes, elf. Use them wisely.”

“Is this the best you can do?” Cimmox gloated as his monster lifted a leg to stomp on Jayden. “Soldiers spoke of you in terror. Knights trembled at the mention of your name. The king fears you even if he dares not show it. How could a stripling wizard like you, a fool using magic outdated a thousand years ago, earn such respect?”

“By thinking,” Jayden said. His next spell made shadows around the valley shimmered and solidified into pieces of frightening black armor identical to what Dana wore. Black armor pieces flew through the air and struck Cimmox hard, snapping over him and encasing him head to toe.

“What is this?” Cimmox yelled, his voice echoing inside his new helmet. He held up his hands and tried to move his fingers. “I can’t cast spells in these gauntlets!”

“No, you can’t,” Jayden said, his voice low and menacing. He still had his black sword, and the giant hand floated in the air. “Goodbye, Cimmox. You won’t be missed.”

Dana dearly wanted to stay and help him, but the Living Graveyard was almost on them. She needed to keep it away from Jayden for him to finish the necromancer. With damaged armor and a magic sword, she ran to fight a monster that had died and come back three times she knew of.

The Living Graveyard was as hideous as always, twelve feet tall, eight feet across and made of grave soil, human bones, broken headstones and splintered coffins. The nightmare monster had a cluster of human skulls embedded in its chest and two intact gravestones jutting from its shoulders, one reading No Rest and the other No Peace. Dana raised her sword to strike, and watched the Living Graveyard walk past her to Jayden.

It was ignoring her. Over the last year many people had done the same thing, focusing instead on Jayden. Normally she was happy to take advantage of this, but not today. She’d come so far, done so much, owned a named magic weapon, and this monster still walked right by her.

“Get back here!” she screamed. Dana charged the monster and swung Chain Cutter with all her strength. Her sword sliced into the Living Graveyard’s right hand and hacked it off. This brought the monster to a halt, and it tried to club her with its now handless arm. Dana ducked under the clumsy swing and sliced the arm open up to its elbow. She followed up with a strike on its right knee, chopping out a huge piece of dirt and bones.

The Living Graveyard’s next blow sent Dana flying backwards. Her armor was cut open across the stomach, but luckily the damage went no deeper. She struggled to her feet as the Living Graveyard marched after her. It lifted one foot and tried to step on her. Dana rolled aside and cut open its leg. The Living Graveyard howled at her with its grinning skulls, and for a moment she quavered under the awful screams.

Then she saw the edges of the wounds she’d scored on the Living Graveyard were black and crumbling away. Cimmox had said that this monster dated to when necromancers and sorcerer lords had fought to decide who would rule this land. That meant it was made with necromancy, not surprising given its appearance. Her sword was poison to it.

Dana charged the Living Graveyard and drove Chain Cutter deep into its body. The monster tried to claw her with its remaining hand. Instead of fighting it she let go of her sword and fell back. The Living Graveyard marched after her. She kept falling back and it kept after her as bits of it flaked away. More and more of it began to crumble and blacken.

As she retreated she came across Green Peril. The elf was kneeling with his staff pressed against the ground. He spoke, but not the strange words of magic. “All things die, but in dying they leave the seeds for new life. From death new life grows, sprouting, spreading, replacing what was lost.”

The Living Graveyard was going to trample Green Peril on its way to her. She didn’t know what the elf was doing (it sounded more like a prayer than a spell), but she couldn’t let the monster kill him. She charged it and drove her clawer gauntlets deep into its right side. Coffin wood burst into flames, bones cracked and headstones turned to gravel. The Living Graveyard seized her with its remaining hand, and she felt her armor buckling. Smoke rose up as her armor began to dissipate.

Crash! Dana kept clawing the Living Graveyard as she spared a glance at Jayden. The sound came from his giant hand slamming into the monstrous skeleton. He was tearing it apart, and as she watched he tore off one of its legs. The monster hobbled after him, trying to crush him underfoot, but with one leg gone and two glued together it didn’t move fast. Cimmox was still on top of his foul creation, struggling to pull off the magic armor that trapped him. The magic armor was toxic to the hideous creation he rode, and his feet burned into it.

“It won’t come off!” Cimmox screamed. With his accent it sounded like von’t.

“How can you cast spells with that atrocious accent?” Jayden demanded. He plunged his black sword into another of the skeletal monster’s legs. “You sound like your mouth is full of live fish!”

There was an ominous crack as the Living Graveyard broke Dana’s breastplate. Her shoulder guards went next. Broken bits dissolved into smoke, and then intact pieces began to boil away. Jayden’s spell was ending before the fight was over.

Devastating as this was to her, it hurt the Living Graveyard just as much. Her sword was destroying it from the inside out. Touching her armor was killing it as it tried to kill her. Its right arm fell off, then two of its skulls followed. Her armor was almost gone when the monster’s hand wrapped around her came apart. Dana grabbed her sword and pulled it out, then swung again and again. The Living Graveyard howled at her, a halfhearted moan rather than a scream. She answered with a scream of her own as she drove her sword deep into it. The Living Graveyard toppled and fell silent.

That’s when she heard a whisper, easy to hear even over the deafening sound of battle. 'It still lives. Strike again.'

Dana didn’t know what it was, but she did as told and swung Chain Cutter into the fallen monster. She cut off huge slabs of dirt and rotten wood, hitting it again and again. Her third swing tore deep into the monster, and that’s when she saw a human skull with horrible symbols carved into it. The skull had long legs like a crab, and now that it was visible it tried to run away.

“That’s how you keep coming back!” she cried out. “You’re like an estate guard. As long as that part of you gets away you can make a new body. Get over here!”

Dana chased the fleeing skull past Green Peril, the elf still speaking formally. Plants began to grow around him. His staff had white patches, and it sprouted leaves and vines that spread across the tainted landscape.

“From deserts dry to frozen tundra, life struggles and succeeds,” Green Peril said solemnly. “In oceans depths and mountains high, life struggles and succeeds. When molten rock pours forth to make new land, once red lava cools, here too life takes root.”

The fleeing skull ran by the elf and headed for Cimmox. The necromancer still struggled to remove his magic armor. His giant creation was trying to flee while Jayden chased it and hacked pieces off. Dana didn’t know what the skull could do if it reached Cimmox. Could it make another body fast enough to rejoin the battle?

Dana raced after the skull and caught up with it. It zigged and zagged, trying to avoid her. It ducked under a fallen tree and came out the other side, but Dana jumped over the dead tree and came down on top of it. The skull looked up as she plunged her sword into it. A shower of sparks shot up from Chain Cutter as the sword pierced the skull. The cursed thing screeched so loud that Jayden and Cimmox both turned to watch. Dana held her sword in the air, and the skull slid down the length of the blade before splitting in two.

“No,” Cimmox said. “It’s not possible!”

Cimmox threw back his head and issued such a horrible cry that Dana and Jayden fell backwards. Even Green Peril much farther back was rocked by the sound. The magic armor encasing Cimmox was ripped apart. Cimmox’s skeletal monster, already badly hurt, broke apart entirely. The necromancer fell to the ground and landed on his back.

The three of them staggered to their feet. Cimmox was missing what little hair he had. His face was gaunt and pale, his eyes sunken and yellowed. “Cry of the banshee is the only spell I know that needs no gestures. That took ten years off my life.”

With his hands free again, Cimmox cast another spell. Black liquid like tar spread across his hands, and the few drops of it that fell burned the ground. “I’ll get those years back by taking fifty years off your life.”

His next spell knit together shattered bones to form long spider legs that sprouted from Cimmox’s back. He ran fast as a horse with those revolting legs, his hand outstretched as he charged Jayden. Jayden raised his sword while Dana ran to his side.

Then Jayden looked like he was listening to something. Cimmox was almost upon them when Jayden said, “At least your wife isn’t here to see what you’ve become.”

Cimmox halted his charge. He looked confused before his face betrayed a great sadness. He backed away as Jayden continued speaking.

“She loved you. She tried to protect you. She deserved better than for you to ignore everything she said. So many times she tried to save you from threats, only for you to destroy yourself. You can still go back to her, but not like this.”

“I,” Cimmox began. Tears ran down his face. He scowled and raised his hands. “How dare you use her against me! I’ll kill you all!”

He didn’t get the chance. Grass spread across the valley floor as fast as a flying hummingbird. Trees sprouted and grew in seconds what should have taken years. Dana, Jayden and Cimmox turned to see Green Peril standing next to a tall white tree set with opals. The elf stood up and looked at Cimmox like a judge passing sentence.

“Life recovers from all losses. Fire, flood, frost, drought, through it all life survives, prospers and grows. Life conquers death!”

Dead trees sprouted new leaves and shoots. Vines twisted and wrapped around one another. The whole valley came alive in an unstoppable wave that reached for Cimmox. The necromancer blasted the plants with the same black bolts he’d killed Green Peril’s plant monster with. He cut huge gashes into the plants, yet the damage regrew in seconds. Cimmox turned and fled, running away on his spidery bone legs.

The tidal wave of greenery swept over him. For a few seconds he fought back, unleashing magic more horrible than any Dana could imagine. It was useless. The plants bound him and pulled him in, and with a sudden thunderous rush crushed him.

Dana leaned up against Jayden. “Wow.”

“That wasn’t nature magic,” Jayden said. “You cleansed this entire valley of the taint of necromancy, undoing Cimmox’s damage and the atrocities of the king and queen.”

“I had help,” Green Peril told them. He ran his hands over the lush plant life. “I imagine we all did.”

Hesitantly, Dana said, “I heard a whisper during the fight. Jayden, what you said about Cimmox’s wife, how did you know?”

“You weren’t the only one hearing whispers.” He looked at her and said, “Cimmox traveled a dark road. A man who sinks that far into perversion and depravity suffers a cost to his soul. I heard a voice telling me to give him one last chance, and what to say to reach him. He refused.”

She pointed up. “You mean we got help from…”

“Yes.”

“Huh. A bolt from the blue would have been nice.”

“A wise gardener removes weeds carefully, lest he damage his crops at the same time,” Green Peril replied. “We were given what we needed, no more, no less. Do not depend on such gifts, for they are given only in exceptional circumstances and against the most implacable of foes.”

“Where’s your staff?” she asked.

Green Peril glanced at the large white tree. “There. You can still see the opals. I needed a focus for the purification ceremony, and only my staff was strong enough.”

“So you can’t try to kill us?” she asked hopefully.

Green Peril gave her a sincere smile. “No. Nor do I wish to. If the king and queen would employ such a fiend then they don’t deserve my help.”

A thorough search of the area turned up no treasure. If the king and queen had paid Cimmox, he’d either spent it or hidden it. They did find a small camp with a stack of scrolls made of vellum. Jayden identified the as spell scrolls containing secrets of necromancy. He wasted no time in burning them. They tried to bury Cimmox, for even villains deserve burial, but they couldn’t find his body amid the plants.

“Our endeavor was successful, yet yielded little fruit besides defeating Cimmox,” Green Peril said. “I need time to replace what I’ve lost, no easy task when I will go home empty handed yet again. I will return in time.”

“Not as an enemy?” Jayden asked.

“No. You have earned my respect. Take comfort in knowing that no one else has.” Green Peril cast his last spell that day and transformed himself into a giant hawk. He spread his enormous wings and took to the sky, then flew south.

“That was exhausting,” Dana said.

“But necessary.” Jayden hesitated before asking, “Dana, before I gave you magic armor, why did you say wait?”

“I thought you were going to make one of those huge hands, scoop me up and make it carry me away.”

Jayden nodded his head slightly. “That was a much better plan than the one I came up with.”
* * * * *
With Cimmox and his foul army gone, Dana and Jayden headed to more populated parts of the kingdom. They needed days to reach the nearest town where they could buy food and maybe a good night’s sleep at an inn. Both of them still wore heavy winter clothes that helped mask their identities.

“Where do we go from here?” Dana asked as they entered the town.

“Cimmox made bold claims that may have been lies. He’d provided Duke Wiskver an undead army, so he was likely honest when he said he had royal patronage. The question is whether the rest of his tales were idle boasts. We could face threats more numerous and terrible than what we’ve seen to date.”

“The king and queen have money to hire more men, especially after years of high taxes. They may not even need the money.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last summer they promised to hire Green Peril if he killed you. They could make promises like that to other people, making them work before they get paid. If they die in battle, the king and queen aren’t out a single coin.” Dana grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt. “What’s going on up ahead?”

Over a thousand people were gathered in the town center, so many it seemed the entire town was present. People looked worried and spoke in hushed tones. As Dana and Jayden drew near, a lone man carrying a scroll came to the center of the crowd.

“Settle down, everyone,” the man called out.

“Mayor, what’s this about?” a farmer asked. “I’ve got planting to do.”

“I’ll get you back to your fields soon,” the mayor replied. He unrolled the scroll and held it up for them see. “A royal proclamation came last night by fast courtier, with orders to read it to the entire town.”

“You had to have the sheriff come get us for this?” another farmer asked.

The first farmer said, “The old mayor wouldn’t have done that.”

The mayor stared the farmer down. “That’s enough! The old mayor is gone. I’m here. The king and queen declared a state of war with Kaleoth, Brandish and Zentrix. Quiet that shouting! Mercy, it’s like herding sheep. The proclamation says Brandish and Zentrix are colluding with Kaleoth against our kingdom. We’re surrounded by enemies and have no choice but to fight our way out.”

“Against three kingdoms?” a frightened farmer asked.

“We’ve got no choice but to go forward.” The mayor checked the scroll before speaking. “There’s also been a rebellion by Skitherin mercenaries. One company went rogue and incited the others to rebel. Inform the authorities at once if you see them, because those men are dangerous.”

“This keeps getting worse,” a rancher said.

“Can’t you idiots stay quiet for five minutes?” the mayor asked. “Rumors have been going around about undead in the kingdom. Criminals and madmen have been claiming that walking skeletons were seen not far from here. We can’t have fear mongering during a time of war. Anyone caught spreading lies will be charged with sedition and sentenced to ten years hard labor, so mind your own business.”

The mayor walked up to a message board and tacked the scroll onto it. He stepped away and began, “I’m leaving this here for the rest of the—”

A giant black hand swung down and smashed the message board to splinters. Men yelled and women screamed as the hand grabbed the mayor and threw him into the crowd. Panicking people scattered in all directions until the town was empty. The huge hand didn’t follow them, in part because Dana was struggling to hold Jayden’s right arm. She held on until he let the hand dissolve into a cloud of black smoke. Jayden threw his head back and screamed. He pulled away from her, but she followed him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Jayden, don’t!”

He kicked pieces of the destroyed message board. “I’ve fought for decades to keep this from happening, Dana! You have no idea the hardships I’ve faced, the wounds I’ve suffered. Twenty years and every day of it a battle for time, for money, for some shred of hope, and it was for nothing.”

He stared at her. “I was supposed to stop this. It was my penanced for failing to stop my father descending into evil. My failure means countless multitudes will suffer the horrors of war.”

Those painful words showed how Jayden blamed himself for the king’s misdeeds, as if a child was responsible for the crimes of his father. In a way it proved his virtue, for he loved these people and would sacrifice himself if it meant saving them, but this self-loathing was destructive. He’d ruin himself, and he could do immeasurable damage to others if he didn’t get it under control.

“You didn’t fail,” she told him. “You haven’t succeeded yet. There’s a difference. You’ve saved lots of people, and you can save even more. Come on, Jayden. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

They left the town as residents slowly began to return. Dana wasn’t sure what they could do in the face of such a terrible threat. Three Kingdoms faced invasion, and people here were at the mercy of the king and queen, plus whatever monsters and madmen the royal couple had invited. What could two people do to stop that, even when one was a sorcerer lord?

Dana looked back the way they’d come, where a necromancer who’d created armies of the dead was gone forever. One threat was gone, yet so many remained.