Arc lay against the wall as his four crewmates groaned, having been knocked down by the lich, Shutan the Ruined. They had expected this battle to go much smoother, but the lich had proven to be tremendously alert even after decades of slumber in his now-open sarcophagus.

The heat was stifling in the underground chamber and Arc had one bullet left to his name. He feared it wouldn’t be enough, but he had to try something. Shutan must have memorised as many spells as Arc and his crew had spell cartridges, finding ways to counter their efforts at every turn.

The lich raised his skeletal hands, his long robes of purple and gold flowing behind him, and its red eyes fixed on Arc as he raised his arm. The spellslinger pressed the trigger and an intense bolt of lightning materialised from his gun, flashing and crackling as it struck the lich, interrupting his spell and blowing the terrifying undead lord into a thousand tiny fragments of bone that rained down throughout the stone room.

“Thank Anateer,” sighed Arc, dropping his gun and letting his head fall back against the stone.

“Is he dead?” asked Valen, forcing himself up onto his elbows. His clothes had been half-burned away, but his body armour underneath had kept most of his body safe from the searing flames of the lich.

“Not yet,” said Jono, standing up and stumbling over to Shutan’s sarcophagus.

The wiry man leaned against the edge of the sarcophagus as he shakily reached inside and pulled out a gold amulet housing a collection of emeralds that formed a skull-shaped pattern. He threw it over to Marcus, the burliest of the group.

“Crush that for us, would you?” he asked, sliding back onto the ground.

Marcus grumbled and groaned as he brought himself onto his knees. He moved the amulet onto the ground in front of him and grabbed a hammer tied to his belt. He raised it high and slammed it down, shattering most of the crystals and releasing a wispy white vapour. Not content, Marcus raised his hammer again and continually beat the phylactery until he was assured that not a single trace of Shutan the Ruined’s soul remained bound to the mortal world.

“That’ll do,” he said, lying back down on the ground and rolling onto his back. “Let me sleep for a few years, will ya?”

“What if there are more of his minions lurking in the rooms we missed?” asked Evie, climbing to her feet and sweeping her wavy red hair over her shoulder.

“Just let them kill us,” said Valen, waving a hand through the air. “I’ve lost the will to fight.”

Arc stood up too and walked over to Valen, reaching a hand out to his best friend. “Up and at ‘em, fearless leader,” he said.

“I hope that isn’t sarcasm, chum,” said Valen, taking Arc’s hand and letting his friend pull him onto his feet.

“You got us here alive, didn’t you?” said Arc, slapping Valen on the shoulder and making him wince in pain.

“Firstly, don’t do that again,” said Valen with a grimace that slowly turned into a smile. “Secondly, I did, didn’t I?”

“I’d put that more down to Master Dusk’s spell bullets,” said Jono, grabbing onto the edge of the sarcophagus and forcing himself to join three of his standing friends.

“Come on, Marcus,” said Arc, walking over to the leather-clad brute with the shaved head. “Wouldn’t it be better to sleep under the stars?”

“Ever the diplomat, Arc,” said Marcus, not bothering to take Arc’s outstretched hand. Rather, he stood up on his own and dusted himself off. “Not too much worse for the wear, are we?”

“Speak for yourself,” said Jono, looking at the acid burn on his right arm.

“You’re lucky it was just a splash,” said Valen, looking down at the state of himself. “Am I supposed to spend a week walking home half-naked? That won’t do at all, I’ll be laughed at if we happen upon travellers or merchants on the road.”

“You’ve got plenty of clothes back home, my friend,” said Arc while trying to hold back laughter.

“I’m lucky he didn’t burn my hair to cinders,” said Valen, sweeping his black hair back.

“You don’t fancy trying the shaved head look?” asked Evie, kinking her head in Marcus’s direction.

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“Some can pull it off, others can’t,” said Valen before making a finger gun at Marcus. “Works for you though, bud. The ladies love it, I’m sure.”

“Reckon I could pull it off?” Arc asked Evie, who gave him a side-smile.

“Lovely Evangeline would be better shaving her head than you, golden boy,” said Valen before clasping his hands together. “What’s more important than the sorry state we’ve been left in is that we made it through the battle and now the spoils of wars are ours.”

“The lockbox,” said Jono springing to the most alert he had been since before the battle with the lich.

He looked around, pushing his floppy brown hair away from his face and spied the ornate black metal chest, no larger than a cubic foot in size, sitting in an alcove in the corner, perfectly preserved by whatever enchantment was placed upon it and with its twistedly ornate key in the keyhole. And Jono was certain that it was enchanted, it would be foolish for Shutan to leave something as valuable as the chest unprotected.

“What have we got in here then?” asked Valen, hurrying over to it.

“Don’t!” called Jono, but it was too late; he heard the click of the lock. The wiry young man dove for cover behind the sarcophagus.

“What are you doing, Jono?” asked Marcus with a hearty guffaw. “Get back out here, you buffoon.”

“Never open a lich’s chest without checking for traps!” cried Jono, breathing a sigh of a relief as he stood up.

“Whoops,” shrugged Valen, turning around with the opened chest in his hands. “It looks like we have indeed got the spoils lady and gentlemen.”

“Good,” sighed Evie, smiling and putting her hands on her hips. “I would hate to think all this effort and all of these spell cartridges were lost for nothing.”

“And these injuries,” added Arc, walking past Evie and over to Valen.

“I thought that was a given,” giggled Evie, following Arc to the corner of the room. “So, what sort of spells can Master Dusk add to his spellbook this time?”

Valen shoved the box into Arc’s arms and started unfurling the scrolls one by one and examining each of them in turn.

“It would be nice if it was written in a language I could understand,” said Valen with a frown. “I need the master to each me a few different scripts.”

“That one’s Vampiric Drain,” said Jono, looking over Valen’s shoulder.

“And how do you know that?” asked Marcus, grabbing Jono’s head and digging his knuckles into it.

“Stop that,” said Jono, elbowing Marcus in the ribs. “Master Dusk showed me a few necromancy spells to be on the look out for. He said to be extra careful around those who handle necromancy spells, the same way we’re careful not to use black spell cartridges.”

“An undead necromancer keeping a few necromantic scrolls around, eh?” chuckled Arc, making Valen laugh.

“Are we going to take the bunch?” asked Evie, putting a finger to her chin.

“Might as well,” said Valen. “We’ll let Master Dusk decide what he wants to do with them. I’m sure there are more than a few of these that he’s already transcribed to his spellbook.”

“And the ones he already has can be turned into cartridges without having to rely on him memorising,” added Jono, nodding with a furrowed brow. “Sounds like a good plan.”

Valen closed the box, took it back from Arc and put it under his arm. “Not a bad haul today, team. Let’s savour it until we get home because I’ve no doubt the master will send us out on another scavenging mission after a single day of rest.”

“Not like we’ve got much else to do,” said Marcus.

“It would be nice to do something with our spellcasters beyond finding more spells for him,” said Valen.

Arc shook his head. “Nah, you’ve got it all wrong, Vale. Think about how many skeletons sent back to the grave making our way three floors deep in this musty old crypt. We put a lich out of his misery too, making the world just a tiny bit safer.”

“And you can’t forget the goblins, kobolds and gnolls we killed coming through the mountains,” added Evie with a wink to Arc.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Valen with a roll of his eyes. “We’re regular old saints, aren’t we? Come on, let’s get ourselves back to the surface so I can breathe some fresh air again.”

Valen walked towards the doorway leading back into the dark corridor they had entered through. Jono and Marcus followed, dragging their heels, so exhausted they were. Arc and Evie remained behind, looking around the room just in case they had missed anything that may have been worth something.

“Do you think Valen’s right and I could pull off a shaved head?” asked Evie from behind the sarcophagus. She stood up and ran her hands through her thick hair.

“You would look beautiful with or without it,” said Arc, receiving a raised eyebrow in response. “No, don’t shave it.”

“That’s what I thought,” grinned Evie, her smile and blue eyes twinkling even in the dim light cast by the flickering torches. “I’d prefer you not shave yours either, hun.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I can’t be the golden boy without a golden head to top it off, can I?”

“Very true,” said Evie, hopping on top of the sarcophagus and scanning the room from up high. “I think we’re in the clear.”

She smiled sneakily at Arc and then leapt from the sarcophagus, but he could sense something like this coming. He braced himself and caught her in his arms.

“My hero,” said Evie exaggeratedly, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Don’t forget who turned the lich into bone dust,” said Arc proudly.

“Of course not,” said Evie, pulling Arc’s head down and kissing him deeply for a few seconds. “Shall we catch up?”

“Sure. The last thing we want is to get ambushed when we’re separated from the others.”

“And without spell cartridges,” said Evie, swinging her long legs back onto the ground. “An old revolver and a hunting knife won’t really cut it against skeletons.”

“Maybe we can stock up on the way back.”

“Do you think we have time to stop off at a town or will the others want to keep on walking until we get back to base.”

“I doubt Valen will pass up a chance to find some wine and I bet Marcus has images of bacon flashing before his eyes right now.”

“Right,” said Evie, linking arms with Arc. “Come on, golden boy.”

Arc and Evie walked back into the corridors to try and catch up with the others. While Evie was relaxed now, Arc kept one hand on his spellcaster, knowing that their safety was never guaranteed.