It took us three more days before we reached the edge of the Necromancer Heights and my anxiety for Bastion was growing with every step. We’d found their footprints and were following their trail again. Bruiser’s large paw prints were followed by Bonaparte’s smaller clawed feet, and Bastion’s long gait revealed the quick pace they’d been traveling at.
My feet fitted perfectly in his steps, and it made my heart ache with fear. What if the ghost of his footprints were the last thing I’d ever see of him? At least Bruiser knew how I felt about him, but Bastion and I had always squabbled like children. I wasn’t sure if he even knew I considered him a friend. He was just so easy to fight with.
The forest path we were traveling on became darker as the trees grew closer together and vines knotted themselves like cobwebs throughout the branches. Several snapped vines along the path proved they’d strung their way across Bruiser’s path, and I hoped they had slowed them down a little, considering the delay we had already had at the lake. I could imagine him snapping them with his powerful jaws, or perhaps Bastion rushing ahead to slice at them with his sword. Despite being a ranger skilled with a bow, Bastion often pulled his sword and recklessly raced into battle.
There were so many contradictory things about him. My heart was hurting again, just thinking of him.
If I laid eyes on him again, I promised myself I’d tell him I liked him. We’d had the one vulnerable discussion where we’d said as much, but he’d been drunk, and I doubted he remembered it. I needed to tell him the truth in the barefaced, sober sun.
“We’re getting close,” Nightfall said grimly. “I can feel it.”
“I hate it here,” Brick said, his lip curling.
“I’m hungry,” said Jackal.
I handed him another cinnamon roll out of my bag without looking at him and kept up my pace. The trees were getting even darker, although there was a shaft of grey light filtering onto the path in the distance. We must be reaching the forest border.
I kept my eyes on the shaft of light, pushing all thoughts of regret to the side as I focused on my destination. We had only to get out of the forest and follow the footprints until we caught up. Then maybe defeat one or possibly two all-powerful necromancers and figure out how to save the world.
But first, we had to get to that shaft of light.
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When we finally approached it, it was almost blinding, and I needed to blink several times to clear my swimming vision. I thought my eyesight had gone funky due to the darkness, but then I realized that I hadn’t gone colour blind and the grass in front of me was actually black.
Looking up, I saw the grass extended into a large lawn that was neatly clipped. Grey streets and black box-like houses stretched into the distance in a suburban grid, all the way towards the mountains, where several tall black spires jutted out of the ground, casting foreboding shadows on the grim little town. It looked like something out of a Tim Burton movie.
The silence was only broken by the wind and a clacking, whirring sound, which seemed to be coming closer. I looked around but couldn’t identify the source of the noise.
“What is this place?” I whispered, almost afraid of making too much noise lest I draw attention to myself. My clothes were a fairly muted red, but I felt like they were a scream of colour in this monotone place. Even Nightfall’s dark blue embroidered robes, Brick’s green skin and Jackal’s brown leather seemed like a rainbow of brightness. I had no idea how we were going to get through this place undetected.
“Necromancer Heights,” Brick said grimly. “Come, we should keep moving. We should head for the towers. The city itself is vacant.”
We continued along the path, which turned to neat grey cobblestone lined with tidy black berms. Every house seemed to be almost the same, with only minor alterations and painted with a mixture of identical blacks and greys.
The clacking, whirring sound I’d heard earlier was closer now, and I jumped as I noticed what looked like a steampunk Roomba creeping across the grass.
“Is that a robot lawnmower?” I asked in disbelief.
“A gnomish contraption,” Nightfall informed me darkly. “This used to be gnomish land before the necromancers came. They were slaughtered and their inventors enslaved and put to work to achieve the necromancers’ dastardly plans.”
I stared at the lawnmower in confusion, but kept walking. This place was totally weird. It felt like a gothic version of a wealthy neighbourhood. I didn’t think it would be out of place if each property had a black-painted speedboat in its driveway. But of course, there were no driveways, just as there were no cars. Just endless pointed roofs and blacked-out windows as far as the eye could see.
Some old papers blew across the path, and I snatched one up. It was a flyer.
Necromancer’s Home-Owner’s Association.
Meeting Friday 5pm sharp.
Agenda:
Subdivision Zoning Sector 5B.
Soundproofing Building Code Requirements for Torture Chambers.
Noise Control Patrol Roster.
Screaming restrictions to be moved forwards to 9pm.
Property Tax Rates to rise 3% next quarter.
“You’ve got to be frickin’ kidding me,” I muttered.
“Their depravity knows no bounds,” Nightfall said, looking over my shoulder at the flyer.
I wanted to laugh. It seemed so ridiculous, but so much of this world did. But there was true cruelty behind this idyllic little piece of goth-dom. Real torture, real massacres. It brought to mind how the Nazis had uniforms designed by Hugo Boss and rewards systems for good-Nazi-behaviour.
Evilness and organization were not a new combination.
I picked up my pace, determined to get to Bastion and Bruiser as soon as we could.