Morgan hunched over, coughed, wretched and forced up the ring into his palm, the ring that would open the magic chest, the magic chest that contained the conduit blade. Kaleb and Flencer stood, helpless. Captain Gregor watched with a contorted face of confusion. Carefully Morgan slid the ring on his finger and moved tentatively to the chest. “I will open it, see.” The lip sprang open with an excited clap of brass.

“Move,” the captain shoved Morgan to one side, dipped his hand into the toothless mouth, and fished around. “You little Elf shit!” He pulled his empty hand out of the box and waved a finger at Morgan. “There’s nothing in here!”

“There is!” Morgan held his hands up.

“Morgan, no.” Iridia hissed.

Flencer was shaking his head, however, Kaleb was watching on with curiosity.

Morgan moved back to the chest. “Watch, you just have to know what you’re looking for,” he muttered something under his breath and slowly brought out a steel canister.

“What is it?” The captain cocked his head.

“Oh, it’s something very precious, my Dwarf friend told me how it works.”

The group of soldiers watched intently as did the captain, their gaumless faces all slack-jawed and riddled with ignorance. This was a unique and new item, untested by many accounts and not something a soldier of the imperium would have used.

Morgan used his free hand to pull the ring from the mechanism which brought a flame to life at the end of the canister. “Behold!”

“It’s a torch or something?” One of the soldiers remarked.

Morgan tossed the grenade with an underarm motion into the middle of the mess tent. Flencer used the opportunity to dive over a table, while Kaleb, not entirely convinced of the potency of such a device, simply turned his broad back to it and covered his ears in one smooth motion.

Iridia was too busy staring at Flencer’s acrobatics to notice Morgan had charged into her, knocking her to the ground.

The grenade fizzled and sputtered before wheezing pathetically. Kaleb twisted his head to glare at the metal tin. “Cheap cra–” Kaleb's hearing retreated into a low ringing and his vision was filled with the flash of what seemed like a thousand suns. His eyes burned while jagged shards flayed the skin from his cheeks until he turned away to hide his face.

A cacophony of wails and moans filled the room as smoke enveloped the tent. The soldiers were lying dead or on their hands and knees patting around like lost lepers in the poor district of Angelspree. Flencer peeked out from behind the upturned table to witness the carnage that tiny, yet mighty, tin had caused.

The captain was holding his face and crying into his hands, blood seeped between his fingers. He wiped his cheeks and blinked to clear his vision. A silhouette in the smoke grew and Kaleb emerged. He looked frightfully angry and his face was flecked with bloodied shards, it didn’t seem to stop him though. The captain raised his hands. “Help me!”

“I’ll help you, alright.” Kaleb struck him with the back of his hand and sent him to his back, he straddled the captain and raised his fist.

“Get it out! I can see again, get it out!”

Kaleb had raised his fist but stopped at the strange words, perhaps he was delirious with pain. The captain's tongue whipped out from his mouth and he moaned gruesomely as it lashed at Kaleb's face with its snaking reach. In a moment of vengeful callousness, Kaleb caught the organ and wrenched it from his mouth with a mighty tug, the tongue gave way surprisingly easily, it wasn’t the first time he had pulled a tongue from a heretics’ mouth who spat blasphemy. The tongue slid free of his mouth and a jellied sausage that jittered and jiggled followed, as it left the captain's lips it snapped up into a quivering ball, a sac of sorts. Kaleb stood and dropped it in disgust.

The captain lurched up and coughed a chunk of putrid black mass up. “Ah! Tha-thank you, thank you!”

The smoke started to clear away and Iridia sat up, Morgan was still on her lap and she was trying to wake him. “Morgan! Morgan!” She shook him frantically.

Flencer had picked up an imperial sword, sturdy but lacking in that finish you’d want in a bespoke blade. He wafted the residue of smoke away as she passed through onto the stage to join Kaleb. “Kill ‘im, we gotta get out of ‘ere!”

Kaleb was fixed on the sac that had now sprouted spiny legs, it shrieked and skittered between his feet and out of the tent.

“What the bloody ‘eck was that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Morgan needs help!” Iridia was still shaking him.

“This way! The captain pointed at the tent, cut a hole in the canvas!”

Flencer was confused but he couldn’t deny the logic–he wounded the fabric with a slashing cross and jumped through the hole. He tripped over one of the rope ties and sat up, to look back. The captain dived out, his face was a mess and his body was battered, he stumbled and landed on his knees after failing to stand.

The chests came next, then Kaleb with Morgan over his shoulder and his hammer in the other hand. Iridia had picked her spear and shield up and joined them next. The party stood, shell shocked but given a moment rest bite. The camp was in a great uproar and men were shouting and calling for their comrades to spur into action, it was still unclear to them what had happened.

“We need to get out of here.” Iridia was kneeling beside the unconscious Morgan.

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“No chance.” The captain spluttered.

Kaleb raised his hammer, “You think you can stop us?”

“No, no but they will, the ones who are changed.”

“Explain yourself.”

“You saw it, Paladin, that thing was in me, it took over me. First my body.” he coughed. “Then my decisions, then my vision, I was just witnessing, you freed me of it.”

Kaleb raised an eyebrow at Flencer who returned the glance.

“Look, am done for,” He coughed. “I’ll guide them away, until they figure me out, in the purple tent, there is a hole, it’s where these things came from, there are stores of equipment and prisoners…free them and you’ll be able to fight your way out.” The captain heaved and worked himself to a wavering stand.

Flencer pursed his lips. “What about Morgan? He’s out cold.”

Kaleb raised his chin in thought. “Put him in the trunk, find a place to hide, Flencer, don’t get caught…and if you can, get the magic chest.”

“We can’t just leave him in a trunk!” Iridia cried. She watched Flencer fetch his crossbow and his bolts.

“We have to.”

“What if they catch him?”

“They’ll kill him.” Kaleb’s tone was matter-of-fact, it had an icy caress to it.

“I–”

Kaleb gripped Iridia’s wrist. “A paladin must make a decision that may break his heart many times over, unlike others, we heal. Help Flencer put him in the trunk.”

Iridia wiped tears away from her face and lifted Morgan into the trunk with Flencer carefully.

“Hide the trunk, Flencer.”

“I’ll help–”

“You’re coming with us captain, if that hole is a trap I’m sticking you first.”

“But I can try and–”

“I don’t care, show me this hole.”

Flencer placed his bow on top of Morgan in the trunk and sealed it tight before tipping it on one end and turning to let it fall on his back flat. With his Dwarven sturdiness, he stood and reached behind to cup his hands under the corners. Like a lover fleeing the window of an adulterous wife before the husband returned, Flencer was gone in the night.

“Where is our armour?”

“In the hole, everything goes in the hole.”

“What’s down there?”

“Them, prisoners, weapons, food, women and…him.”

“Him?” Iridia looked between the men.

Kaleb pushed the captain towards the tent. “Move and talk before we are found.”

The captain brought them the way. “He is the Necromancer, he calls for bodies from the hole to use.”

“Right, I’d much like a word with this man.”

Iridia gritted her teeth, her eyes had dried and had become narrowed with fury. “I’d much like more than a word, I’ll show him justice!”

Kaleb looked at Iridia and nodded. “Necromancers are not something I am familiar with, Iridia, We will take care now, you must have your wits about you.”

Iridia shoved the captain forward. “Get a move on.”

He stumbled and caught himself on his hands. “This way.”

The purple tent was a two-man circlet and from the flapping entry wafted a most egregious smell. The stench was choking and irritated the back of their throats and singed the hairs in their noses.

Iridia covered her mouth but it did nothing.

“You–ah–you first.” Kaleb pushed the captain to the festering hole, down below a light glimmered weakly.

Iridia vomited, unable to keep it in any longer. “Ugh!”

Kaleb tried to keep it down to remain stoic but failed. “I don’t like Necromancers.”

The captain seemed to be less affected by the reek and slid down the angled hole, Kaleb and Iridia followed, ready to defend themselves. Once they reached the bottom the captain turned to face them and placed a finger on his lips. “Shh.”

“Is that you…Gregor?” The dark voice ricocheted from the depths of the underground network, it was decrepit and each word sounded as if it died once spoken.

“It is!”

“You bring more for me?”

Iridia shivered, something made her want to flee the hole and run as fast as she could, back home, back into her woodland cabin and hide under a table. She felt Kaleb's hand on her shoulder. He felt the same crushing dread and empathised with her, knowing how much a young one must feel.

Sconces were spiked into the walls and lanterns were haphazardly dotted around on the uneven floor of the tunnels. They twisted and turned, the subterranean labyrinth drew the three deeper, its breath was foul and the wind that whistled through the caverns carried with it the putrid lick of death.

“This way,” whispered Captain Gregor

“Awful lot of noise from above.” That villainous voice stopped them in their tracks.

“The lads, they eh, found some fireworks, sorry if the noise disturbed your studies.”

“Odd, just like your voice, Captain.”

The lights in the tunnel went out one by one from behind and in front, until the flame of the sconce they stood beside puffed away into a whisper of smoke. Panic set in and the Captain cried as shrieks from the darkness rang out. “They’re coming, they come in the dark!”

“Zale–show them the light of our house.”

“With pleasure.” Kaleb's hammer hummed and then glowed, it brightened dimly and then illuminated into a powerful beacon of piercing light.

Iridia looked upon the weapon with great wonder then beyond in brewing horror as the scene unfolded. Hundreds of skittering globulous creatures wobbled in the tunnel ahead, pinned by the magnificent light of the blessed hammer.

Kaleb, without fear, held the hammer forward and walked into the bubbling mass. They cried out in pain as they burst like pustules on a pox-ridden corpse. “The light burns evil for it cannot hide its lies anymore!”

Flencer had found a row of thorny bushes to hide the trunk, his brow was beaten with sweat and caked in a sooty substance from the grenade explosion. He wiped himself quickly with his sleeve and retrieved his crossbow and bolts once again. He could hear the thumping of greaves on the ground and the rattling of weapons and armour.

“Find them all, they have the captain!”

“Nothing at the wagon!”

Flencer moved low and quietly, using the shadows to cover his movements and the crates and barrels strewn about the camp to hide his intentions. The soldiers although well-armed, seemed disorganised and he was able to take advantage. The magic chest was still behind the tent they had escaped and inside was the sword, a sword worth more gold than he’d know what to do with and it was within his reach. He looked at the ring on his finger, the one he had taken from Morgan that would open the chest.

As he neared he saw a soldier playing with the magic chest, he kept reaching in and pulling nothing out. “Got to be something in here nice.”

“Get your hands away from my treasure.” Flencer moved from behind a tree and pointed his crossbow at the guard.

The guard licked his lips and stood slowly. “The master likes shiny things, I’ll be his favourite.”

Flencer corrected that opinion with an accurate bolt to his forehead, dropping him like a canary in a poison mine. He dashed to the guard to get his bolt back and then opened the chest, reaching in slowly and thinking about what he wanted. It popped into his hand and he smiled wide.