Book 2, Chapter 13: Old Enemies In New Places
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[Alen]
The incessant beating of massive insect wings filled his ears, the background zooming past him like water sprayed on paint. Below, his undead dashed through the sand, scuttled along the walls, and zipped through the air. He looked down at them and felt the grin on his face. They were here. Lynn was here. A voice was transmitted into his ears. Male. Alen remembered his back, constantly at the front, leading the offense and maintaining the defense—Roland.
“Alen? I’m glad you’re alive, but why are you in the Crawling Canyon?”
“The piece of the Galeboat that flew off brought me here,” He said. “where are you guys? I’m flying right there.”
“Be careful. This place is dangerous. Look for a—“
“Flying?” Lynn’s voice interrupted Roland’s.
“Yes. Flying. On the back of a giant dragonfly. Also, look for a what, Roland? Can you send a signal up or something?”
Alen heard Roland talk to some people in the background. There were some noises of protest, but a single bark from someone seemed to silence them. Alen frowned. Why did he feel like he knew this voice? A flash of light caught his attention, faint and almost invisible. It barely went over the canyon’s walls, its radiance too shy to alert the insects. He nodded and redirected his undead towards it. Lynn’s voice rang out.
“Did you see it?”
“Yeah. I’m headed over there.”
“Too dangerous. Stay where you are. Without any undead, this canyon’s too dangerous for you. We’re heading deeper, so we’ll meet up with you eventually,” Roland said.
“We have people with us, so it’ll be safer.”
Alen stopped his undead and considered it for a moment. “I have undead. A lot of them. I’ll get as far as I can, then I’ll wait for you guys there. This canyon has a lot of paths. Where are you guys headed?”
“There’s a large spire of rock up north. Near the centipede’s head, and the most dangerous part of the canyon. We can’t stop the group, but we’ll try to meet up with you before it gets too dangerous.”
“I’ll just go and find you guys, then. I’ve been here for a month, and I haven’t died yet, so I should be able to navigate it safely.”
“Fine,” Lynn’s voice assented. “Just be careful.”
“Yeah,” Alen said, then ended the voice call. His undead tore through the air, and he flew lower than he usually did, guiding his small army through the shadows cast by the light of the moon. The faint rustling of disturbed sand and tapping stone filled his ears, his undead covering all his openings.
He turned and corner and spotted something. An insect—a wasp, one that feasted on the corpse of a large caterpillar. He sent his undead forward before it could even make a sound.
Bone serpents coiled and centipedes spit out Blightwater, melting carapace and crushing what remained. Beetles and undead wasps surged in from the sky, their sharp horns and stinger killing it. Alen felt a wave of mana enter him. The creature was weak. With a wave of his hand, his undead continued forwards, a bone wolf tearing off a piece of the carapace and delivering it to him. He took it and poured his mana in, summoning the creature. It cost a lot less now. The wasp joined his group, adding another member to his growing swarm.
Alen winded through pathways he’d previously tread, killing insects on the way. Most of the stronger creatures were asleep, so it was relatively easier to navigate the canyon. He passed the remains of his section of the Galeboat and couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He’d come a long way.
He flew higher, making extra sure to not fly too far above the canyon as it would alert the monsters that slept above it. His eyes scanned the horizon. Was it worth it to risk flying over the canyon? It would save him time, and it would stop him from getting lost. As long as he stuck to the top layer, the insects wouldn’t swarm. They were stronger up there, but he was strong too. He could fight their numbers with his. He’d done it before. It had dragged on too long and he lost most of his undead, but he’d gained a threshold during the experience.
“Screw it,” His remaining beetles and wasps picked up his undead that couldn’t fly, serving as transport. He flew over the canyon wall and the dragonfly settled on the top. His undead silently positioned themselves around him.
It was relatively clear. He could see the canyon floor from up here. The entire rock formations weaved together like snake and string, a labyrinth formed from the natural degradation of rock. His movements were slow. The top still had cover he could use. Under the moonlight, he cast Necrotic Blessing and coated his undead in a layer of black-green mana that did nothing much, merely letting them blend into the darkness further. It didn’t hold any offensive nature, so the drain on his mana capacity was low.
Eventually, he spotted a large mound of sand. He shuddered. Termite nest. Ones that didn’t eat wood, but chomped apart stone and iron for food. Alen avoided it completely.
He opened the voice chat.
“Can you send a signal again?”
The flash of light came again. A bit more to his left this time—closer. He steered his undead that way. His minions continued to creep forward, avoiding the holes in the ground and wall that the monsters nested in. It was safe. He was safe.
“Hey,” Lynn’s voice rang out.
“Hey,” He said, smiling. It was unusual. It felt so refreshing to talk. He didn’t know how much he missed it until he felt that warmth again.
“So… how do I start this?” She asked. “Why, exactly, are you in one of the Sandsea’s danger zones? Monsters here reach up to the fortieth threshold deeper in.”
“I could say the same to you. You don’t sound like you crashed here.”
“We didn’t. To be honest, after a month of searching, we gave up looking for you,” She paused, unsure of how to continue. “I’m sorry. You’re new to it, but in this world, death is… easy. We thought you died after we got separated.”
He pursed his lips. Alen did feel kind of hurt, but he understood. He realized it himself. Death was easy to find, and easy to give. He hadn’t known them nearly as long as he did Adam and the others. The fact that they focused on searching for him for an entire month was enough for him. He shook his head, the smile returning. “It’s alright. Though I’m pretty offended that you think I’d die off that easily. Where’s the trust?”
Lynn was silent for a while, and then she laughed. “I forgot you were harder to kill off than a cockroach. I won’t doubt you next time.”
“See? Better. If we ever get separated, I’ll hunt you two down to the ends of the earth to prove a point.”
“Really makes me feel better.”
“I’m a natural.”
“A natural stalker?”
“Better keep your underwear safe, or they might just get stolen.”
“I’ll have Roland carve alarm runes into them.”
Alen laughed. It came out naturally, which surprised him. He surveyed his surroundings again, making sure that nothing was coming it way towards him. His minions would alert him if they sensed something, but it was better to make sure. Nothing. He nodded and continued talking to the friend he felt like he hadn’t seen in an eternity.
“I don’t know about you, but Roland gives off the closet sexual deviant vibe.”
He heard her laugh. “His love for runes is getting worrying, I have to admit. I don’t know what he does to that runebook of his when he’s alone in his tent at night.”
“Probably not anything healthy.”
“You two do realize I’m in this chat room as well, right?”
“What? I didn’t know that,” Lynn joked.
“We’re talking about you exactly because we know you’re in here.”
Roland let out an audible sigh and told them he was going to do something. Alen shrugged and bid farewell to Lynn. They could talk later. The faster he reached them, the better. Alen sped up the pace. He was about halfway there now.
The top of the canyon was clearer than usual. He frowned. Something was wrong. A star in the sky abruptly disappeared in the distance. More began to disappear, then reappear again—flickering like a sputtering light. They weren’t going away, no—something was blocking them. Alen strained his eyes and saw it. In the darkness, a mass flew through the sky. No, rather, it was a swarm. A swarm of insects. Their black forms were shrouded in darkness, zipping through the air in their thin wings. They flew; flew towards the signals of light Lynn and Roland sent.
Alen saw the massive form leading them and paled. He hurriedly opened the voice chat. “Lynn, Roland! Get the fuck out! Something’s coming towards you guys!”
No reply.
The necromancer grit his teeth and his mana flared. Immediately, his undead spurred into action. The wolves dashed—the spiders jumped—and the massive dragonfly he was riding on burst into the air with a buzz of its great, long wings. Alen rushed forward without a care, a powerful desire to slaughter filling his darkened expression.
Those insects had an army,
He had one too.
Roland dashed around the camp like a headless chicken, passing lizardmen who were hurriedly setting up what looked to be cannons. A mage raised his arms and conjured a wall of stone upon which the weapons were mounted. More followed, creating the platforms in the canyon wall where the ranged attackers would sit. He grabbed a bag of javelins and followed them up, he looked up at the approaching black mass and felt a calm rush through his system. It was a familiar feeling. It spoke to him—told him a battle was coming.
Beside him stood Lynn, the elf clutching her bow, checking the arrows in her quiver, and inspecting the pouches strapped to her waist. She’d come up with some nasty tricks since the Maelstrom of Dust blew them away.
He looked below and spotted a single crimson-scaled lizard standing on top of the erected stone walls, barking orders to his men. Alexandrius. Roland had remembered his invitation, and decided that it would be best to join him. The man had connections. They’d given up on searching for Alen by themselves, and concluded that if Alexandrius’s men couldn’t find him, he was most likely dead. Roland lamented at how easily lives were lost, especially in the path that he had chosen.
“Fire!” A lizardman beside Alexandrius shouted, and with a roar, the cannons sent forth streams of light. It collided against the mass of invertebrates and exploded into a brilliant display of flames, green ichor and insect innards bursting outwards like bloody fireworks.
Powerful weapons, those cannons. Roland didn’t know what they were called, but it wasn’t hard to recognize the gnomish technology that powered it. He shook his head. Gnomes were terrifying engineers, blending technology and magic almost seamlessly to dominate entire battlefields. He was glad that they mostly kept to themselves, avoiding conflict with the other races who didn’t dare trifle with the short little geniuses.
Lynn finished checking her equipment and nodded at him, holding an arrow in her fingertips and looking on at the swarm of insects with a soft smile. “This’ll be fun.”
“I’d prefer sharing a few stories over a fire and some beer,” He said.
“That’s something you do when you have stories worth telling.”
“And I don’t?”
“I’m fairly positive.”
He shook his head. “Well, do you have any?”
Lynn shrugged. “I took a walk last night.”
“And?”
“It was nice.”
“Excellent,” Roland nodded, propping his shield up as she raised her bow to aim at the approaching swarm. The mages gathered their mana, over a hundred lizardmen preparing themselves for battle. Alexandrius had only brought the best. The Crawling Canyon was a dangerous place, and even someone at the thirtieth threshold would be threatened deeper within.
The orange-haired warrior’s sword was sheathed. Instead, he held a javelin in his hand, the runes engraved on the shaft burning with a pale grey light. He took aim, and just before he threw it, nearly a dozen arrows zipped past him, glowing with a pale blue light. They shot through the air and with a terrifying accuracy, they pierced the exoskeletons of numerous foes. Roland glanced at Lynn and grinned, aiming for a massive mosquito.
It tore through the air, dodging cannon blasts and swooping in with its sword-like proboscis to slice off a lizardman’s arm. Roland sucked in a breath and then——
A gray flash ripped through the air. The mosquito turned and intercepted the light with its proboscis in a panicked move to defend itself. Snap! The proboscis shattered. The javelin stabbed further and shot into its body, the shockwaves turning its insides to mulch. It continued forward as the mosquito fell to the ground behind it.
It missed the next insect, but one of the runes on its shaft abruptly lit up, and with a flash, the javelin returned to the hand of Roland, who was already in a position poised to throw.
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He sent it out once again, killing another large insect. Lynn wasn’t by his side anymore. She ran up the canyon wall, her feet leaving icy marks with every step. She jumped and landed on a giant beetle’s back. The elf shot an arrow and sprung, landing on the back of another insect and wreaking havoc in their ranks. Her bracer, a beautiful ornament containing a variety of elemental stones, flickered with an intense, scintillating light. Arrows shot out from her bow at an astounding rate, covered in ice, fire, and earth. Some sunk into the carapaces of the insects to leave a large, icy mark, before suddenly exploding as soon as its host neared the rest of its kind.
Insects rushed towards her, but she was too agile. A beetle charged, and she slid under its flight, an arrow shooting into the monster’s belly. A wasp shot a stinger at her and she twisted, evading the bolt before countering with one of her own.
Lynn jumped from insect to insect, diverting their attention to her and reducing the pressure the walls felt. When the arrows on her quiver ran out, she formed her own, bombarding the insects with bolts of ice. Slowly, the insects around her increased in number. She felt the sweat on her brow, and a smile made its way into her face.
Who knew fighting could be so fun?
Suddenly, she whipped her head, her body twisting with it. The cloak on her shoulders spun, and the tips of the fabric were covered in razor-sharp frost. The web fired at her split in half, sliced cleanly by the tip of her cloak. She gazed at the spider and suddenly found herself in the air without a foothold. A mantis rushed at her, and Lynn hurriedly pulled out a bead from one of the pouches trapped to her waist. The small, green bead shattered in her fist and released a powerful wind, pushing her out of the mantis’s way.
She shot toward another foe, and midair, she spun. The upper limb of her bow cracked against the head of a dragonfly waiting to tear her apart. She followed up with a kick, her heel smashing into the insect’s head. It didn’t do much damage, but it gave her momentum.
More beads left her pouches, and she crushed them all, the wind blowing her towards the sky. She looked down at the swarm below, watching the light of the cannons burn through their ranks, and spread her arms, a sparkling blue dust leaving her hands. They coated the air around her and trembled, forming into dozens upon dozens of delicate snowflakes. Her eyes glinted. It was time to test her new technique.
The snowflakes glowed, then they flickered, and then, suddenly, they were icy arrows raining down on the swarm below.
Each arrow tore into an insect, and green blood splattered into the sand below. Lynn felt the mana drain from her body. She was falling now. Her arms were tired from firing arrows, and her mana was on the brink of exhaustion. “This is going to be rough,” She muttered, gathering frost to sharpen the tip of her bow’s lower limb. Just before she stabbed it into the canyon wall in an effort to slow her descent, a hand gripped her own. It was warm.
She looked up to see bright emerald eyes staring back at hers. Her hair was in her eyes, and the powerful beating of insect wings filled her ears. Lynn looked at the young man in front of her and smiled. He smiled back.
“You owe me a drink,” He grinned.
She laughed, hoisting herself up. “I guess I do, huh?”
Alen gave her a good look. He hadn’t seen her in a while, and well, he had to admit that he missed her quite a lot. He scanned the scene below. His undead were flanking the insects and attacking them from behind, avoiding friendly fire from the cannons. He scanned the makeshift walls and marveled at the magic used to create them. Then, there above a platform on the canyon wall, he spotted the figure of a familiar orange haired warrior. Roland was staring back at him, and he waved while mouthing the word ‘hi’.
Alen felt a gaze on himself, and suddenly, his spine felt cold. He frowned and looked at the front of the walls. There, a single bloody-scaled lizard was annihilating any monsters that dared to near his group. Alexandrius stared up at him, barking orders towards his engineers with a glint in his eyes. Alen thought it was more intimidating than reassuring.
“But really, Alexandrius? I guessed so,” Alen slowly said. “but you’re working for him? Really? Bandit lord I’m-going-to-cut-off-four-of-your-fingers-before-I-kill-you and eat your innards Alexandrius?”
“I don’t think he said that last part.”
“Well, I certainly remember it that way,” Alen sent the dragonfly forward. It swooped down and ripped into the torso of a spider. He waved his hand, and Necrotic Blessings surged out into his undead. Centipedes spat out Blightwater, spiders shot webs at their victims, and snakes and undead tore into the monsters, Rotfire and Deathchill covering their bodies. Lynn shot out arrows of ice at a slower pace beside him.
“It was in our best interests.” She said, shrugging. “Roland wanted to get stronger, and I wanted to see new places. What’s a better location for that than the Crawling Canyon itself?”
“I don’t know, a beach infested with fifteenth threshold crabs?”
“There is one, actually. Except it’s infested with sharks that have legs. And the sharks are at the fortieth threshold. Their diets are known to consist of sand and the tears of children.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“I’m genuinely sad.”
“Right?” Lynn said, nocking an arrow before letting it loose. It plunged into the skull of a spider moving up the walls to jump at them.
Alen had a single wasp fly into a group of insects. The monsters began to tear into the mana-enforced chitin, but he had other plans. Mana exploded out of Alen’s body, funneling into the strand to cover the single wasp in an intense Deathchill. Hiss! It exploded, and Skeletal Rupture activated to stab multiple bone spears into the bodies of over a dozen monsters.
The necromancer felt the mana surge back into his body. It didn’t fill his reserves, but instead brought him closer to the next threshold. It was less than normal, though, as some of it now surged into Roland and Lynn. Alen was surprised about how glad he felt about that.
“Alen!” Lynn suddenly shouted, and as soon as it had reached his ears, Alen found himself torn away from the Steelwing’s back, Lynn’s hand clasped around his wrist as she jumped, dragging him off with her. A moment later, a boom rang out, and the Steelwing Dragonfly was shattered to pieces by a massive, club-like limb. Alen hadn’t even fully seen the creature that killed his summon, but the feeling of danger he got was spine-chilling. He immediately waved his hand, releasing two spells at once. The shattered remains of his summon exploded into bone spears that shattered against the creature’s arm, while a massive explosion of Rotflame rocked the creature right afterwards.
Bone Spear—Rotfire Blast. Lynn was flailing in the air. The insects around them had been cleared, and she had nowhere to spring on. They were falling, and not in the way Alen would like. He grit his teeth and channeled his mana into his robes.
Immediately, a bone spear with a hooked tip jutted out of the fabric of his sleeve. It pierced the canyon wall, and with a jarring screech, they grinded to a halt. With Alen’s strength, holding both of them wasn’t a problem. A bigger one however, was quickly coming their way. The elf kicked the wall, and Alen severed the bone spear, sending them flying off to the side. An explosion rocked the cliff face behind them. The two rolled across the sand and stopped upon, hitting a rock. Alen groaned. Lynn had elbowed him.
She immediately stood up and stared at the creature that had attacked them. It was a terrifying thing, with a large maw full of sharp teeth and four leathery wings that seemed to blot out the sky. With a mighty flap of its arms, sand was sent into the sky, the blast of air making the two stumble back. Alen dived behind a rock, and Lynn followed not a beat behind.
A realization dawned on her mid-dive. They’d been using something like a repellant to get them through the less-dangerous parts of the canyon, so insects below the twentieth threshold generally stayed away. So why were these insects here? The answer was right in front of them.
“You guys aren’t getting fucking attacked,” Alen muttered in disbelief. “you’re standing in the way of a goddamn stampede!”
He was right. These insects weren’t attacking them. They were running—running from something much, much more dangerous. The Demon-blood Bat let loose a screech, and with a popping sound, their eardrums ruptured. Alen hissed, Numb Senses activating on reflex. He saw Lynn clutching her head with a pained expression and reached out. His hand touched her head, and his mana entered her body to ease the pain with one of his oldest spells.
She looked at him gratefully and chugged down a potion. The insects were passing the walls now, flying over them and ignoring the cannons after seeing terror incarnate nearing their swarm. Alexandrius had stopped killing them, too. He stared at the giant bat and leaped off the walls, tearing through the sand to approach it. It swooped down.
The bat surged through the air with a chaotic wind accompanying it, its massive form looming over them with its claws outstretched.
Alen grit his teeth and a spear with a blunted end exploded out from the sole of his boots, propelling them forward. The boulder they were hiding behind was sliced apart, the bat continued on and stuck to the walls. It screeched again, and this time, Alen felt dagger stabbing into his mind in the form of a splitting headache. The Demon-blood Bat saw this and glided in, ready to take the kill when Alexandrius appeared out of nowhere and swung his greatsword.
The bat dodged. A boom rang out, and the canyon wall behind it suddenly had a gash raked across its surface.
He jumped, sending a pillar of sand into the air. He grabbed its leg, but it was strong too. The blood-scaled lizardman failed to drag it down, so once again, he sent his blade stabbing forward. The bat blocked with a wing, and the piercing scream of metal shrieking against an equally resilient substance rang out. Sparks flew into the air. The bat unsteadily tipped over to the side and slammed into the wall. Alexandrius sprung off before it could.
Alen’s legs dug into the sand. He and Lynn were dashing away. His ears were still ringing from the screech. His head hurt.
A boulder slammed into the sand beside them. Another was coming. Lynn turned around and fired a ballistic arrow covered in earth. The boulder crumbled into a million pieces, and she continued to run, completely unimpaired by the split-second shot. A large centipede scuttled into view, accompanied by two Droughtworms. Alen dug his hand into the sand mid-dash and raked his fingers across the surface before clawing upwards. Blightwater Surge activated, another piercing ache slammed into his conscious.
A wave of black, corrosive water surged up and splashed over the sand in front of them. The centipede’s shell hissed at the corrosion, giving way until it died. The Blightwater sunk into the sand, killing the Droughtworms that swam within it. Alen stumbled. Lynn grabbed his arm and pulled him forward.
One of Alen’s minions swept in and they jumped into its back. He almost fell off, but he managed to stabilize his footing as the beetle lifted them up. They sped towards the walls, dodging insects and cannon-fire. A large, golden scarab slammed into their mount. Alen fell off. He saw Lynn’s mouth shout out his name. He was falling again.
The canyon walls blurred past his vision. He saw booms and flashes of light—Alexandrius battling the bat. His head felt muddled. Why was it so hard to move? Alen knew. It was the bat’s screech. It was a sort of mental attack. His mana reserves were fine, but it felt like he was experiencing the effects of mana exhaustion. He grit his teeth. This wasn’t the first time he felt it. He wasn’t going to pass out by using magic. What was a little pain?
Mana flowed, and something like a claw exploded out from his back, formed from the altered, hardened version of his robe’s fabric. He screeched to a stop. His vision exploded in white from the pain. He felt himself screaming. His nose was bleeding. His eardrums were still ruptured. Alen grit his teeth. His vision was shaking, but the monsters rushing towards him seemed clear as day. He was not dying here.
He weakly planted himself against the wall and gathered almost all of his mana. Like a massive sinkhole in the center of a lake, the mana gathered at the soles of his boots. Every second was agony. He tasted blood. A deafening ringing filled his ears.
Alen mustered his courage and activated his spell.
Bone Spear.
Boooom! Like pistons, a massive bone spear formed at the bottom of his boots and boomed into the wall. The stone sunk inches deep from the sheer force. Alen was a bullet, and his target was in sight. He sailed over the walls—past the cannons—past most of the platforms. Just before he hit the sand, a hand grabbed the end of his robe. He was brought to a sudden to stop, the keratin clothes remaining untorn even after the quick halt.
Roland swung Alen over his shoulder and nonchalantly walked down the platform to get him treated. He had Alen drink a potion, and the necromancer felt his injuries knit back up. “Long time no see,” He said.
“Ugh. My head is dying, Roland. The amount of cool lines I can think up to reply to your greeting is approximately zero,” Alen complained, and a moment later, Lynn gracefully landed on the ground near them, covered in dirt and light wounds. She walked over to Roland and laughed.
“Has he said anything cheeky yet?”
“I prefer the word clever—”
“—He says he’s too tired, but he’s been doing a pretty good job at it so far. At least the isolation hasn’t turned him all broody and quiet.”
“I don’t know whether to feel glad, or just sad,” Lynn shook her head and pulled open the door to what seemed to be some sort of vehicle. The booming of cannons rang out from outside, but the sounds were muffled through the metal walls. Nestled against the walls were many folded beds. Lynn pulled one down and Alen marveled at the size of the vehicle. It seemed to be some sort of sickbay carriage, and it looked like it could hold upwards of thirty to forty people. They helped him onto one of the beds and he covered his face with his forearm and let out a sigh. Roland told him they’d catch up later and walked out to kill more insects.
“This feels awfully like our first meeting,” Alen told them.
“Hm?” Lynn was about to go out after Roland when she turned back and tilted her head at the necromancer’s words.
“You know, I see you guys massively outclassed by some threat and I wade into the fray with my usual aplomb to save the day. You’re welcome, by the way.” He grinned.
Lynn pointed outside and grinned back. “I wouldn’t say outclassed. Have you seen those cannons?”
“Yeah. What are those, anyways? The shots give off an insane amount of mana.”
“I think they were called Firecannons.”
“Very apt.”
“Oh, shut up.” She laughed, setting her bow to the side and sitting down. She wiped away some sand that had gotten stuck on her face. “They’re made with a mix of Dwarven and Gnomish know-how, and well, they really live up to their creators’ names.”
Alen blinked. “I’ve seen Dwarves, but I haven’t seen any Gnomes since I got here.”
“Me neither,” Lynn shrugged. “They live in underground civilizations and keep to themselves. I planned on visiting one, actually.”
“Yo, I’m down to visit one too.”
Lynn moved around the sickbay, picking out hazy yellow rocks from a shelf before tossing them into water. Alen watched them melt at a visible rate. “My grandfather said you needed to have some sort of permit to enter without the recommendation of another gnome.”
“I’m guessing you have one of those?”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“What?” She gave him a look. “I could sneak in. Maybe.”
“I mean, if you’re down to get killed a mob of angry Gnome-guards, then sure. Sneak away.”
The elf dabbed the now yellow liquid to her wounds with a ball of cotton. They very slowly closed up. “I’m planning on traveling the world anyways. I’ll meet a gnome eventually.”
“What if he doesn’t give a recommendation, though?”
“I’ll harass him until he does.”
“You’re fucking terrifying.”
She laughed. It was clearer now. The explosions outside had stopped. Alen gave her a long look, but before he could say anything, the sound of footsteps rang out from outside. Then, with a creak, the door opened to reveal Alexandrius who quickly sauntered in, covered in blood that wasn’t his own. He grinned at Alen. It was as savage as he remembered.
“So your necromancer finally decides to make an appearance. You won’t back out on the deal now, will you Miss Frostwood?”
“Nope,” Lynn shook her head. “I want to see what the rest of the canyon’s like.”
“Excellent,” He said, and Alen gaped. Who the hell was this person? He expected a heap load more threats and a general aura of wanting to hurt someone from the guy. But really, there was something more important to worry about here. He looked at Lynn.
“Your last name is Frostwood? What the fuck? Don’t tell me Dwarves put ‘hammer’ in their last names too?”
“They actually do,” Lynn said.
“That’s, I don’t know, racist? Stereotypical?”
“Right?”
“You literally have no right to agree with what I just said.”
Alexandrius leisurely wiped the blood off his armor, and even went as far as to wipe his scales, but it barely did anything to change the crimson color. He looked up at the both of them, then regarded Alen with a glint in his golden eyes. “I’m assuming you’re joining us, necromancer?”
“Uh,” Alen eloquently replied, “yes.”
“Good. I’ve already had my men gather pieces of bone from that bat’s body. Your friends have taken the time to notify me of what you’re… capable of.”
He stared at Alexandrius for a long moment, before mustering the courage to ask. “Why aren’t you like, more killing intent-y and all that?”
“I reserve that side of myself for my enemies,” He said, and Alen suddenly felt the room go cold. Sweat immediately lined his back as a powerful bloodlust and pressure washed over him. He nearly staggered off the bed. “Do you want to be treated like one of my enemies?”
“…No,” Alen forced it out, keeping the confident smile on his face despite the fear he felt.
“Perfect. We have an agreement, then,” The crimson-scaled lizard said, before walking back out of the vehicle. The bloodstained cloth in his hands was left on a shelf to the side, and the door creaked shut.
Alen stared awkwardly at Lynn who was looking at him in amusement.
“What the fuck just happened?”