Damn, I wish I had my bow. It would be so much easier to take out a guard at range then chop off his head before she knew he was down.
Yet I didn’t need my bow; I just needed any bow. I slipped out the rear of the house, running fast and silently on bare feet as I made my way through the village, keeping to the common ground that ran behind the houses and avoiding the streets. The other guard was happily smashing down doors across the way, the sounds quieting with distance. Stabby was standing with her zombie guard in the middle of the village, occasionally screaming at the still-living guard to find me faster. I wondered if she was too enraged to notice her third guard had never returned.
I slipped in through the back door of Therin’s house. When I’d been here before, he’d only shown me the one bow, but I figured there was a good chance he’d have more hiding away—his own, for starters. And there it was, mounted on the wall beside the staircase. I lifted it down. It was a beautiful bow, crafted from yew and reinforced with horn. Yet it made me think: it was straight-limbed. I was yet to see a recurve bow in Valorah. If I could find a fletcher willing to experiment, building a recurve bow would give me a significant advantage. How difficult could it be once I explained the principle to them?
Helping myself to a quiver of his arrows, I considered wrapping a few of them in oil-soaked cloth. But Stabby’s zombie guard was wearing armor, and it was now getting so dark that a lantern would pull them to me. Without a flame, lighting the cloth would be impractical, while a moving light would make it obvious where I was. All the houses were white wattle-and-daub; the lantern would reflect off everything.
But maybe I could use that to my advantage.
I spent a few productive minutes prepping a half-dozen fire arrows, then grabbed two lanterns from Therin’s house. I slipped out the back, crept to the corner, and sneaked a look down the street once more.
Not much time had passed since I went into Therin’s house, and Stabby still loitered outside Bjorn’s house with Zombie Guard, who was standing so still it was eerie. Her one remaining still-alive guard was walking up toward her.
“Where’s the other one?” she said, her voice traveling clearly in the quiet. The ‘other one’? Did she not even know their names? That was almost funny.
“He went to search the houses on that street.”
“Go and find him. He should be back by now.”
It was almost a gift the way she kept sending them off alone, but I wasn’t going to say no. Perhaps she thought they were too armored and competent for me, and maybe toe-to-toe they were. I focused hard. Show information, dumb guard.
Dumb Guard
Class
Warrior
Race
Half-Orc
Level
10
Age
29
Armor Class
21
Primary
Secondary
Skills
Strength
18
Attack
15
Weapon (Sword)
20
Agility
8
Defense
22
Weapon (Dagger)
16
Intelligence
5
Endurance
21
Shield
15
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Wisdom
12
Luck
1
Dodge
7
Fortitude
17
Perception
4
Riding
6
Charisma
5
Resilience
5
Weapon (Crossbow)
5
Health
130
Speed
7
Spirit
2
Willpower
1
Weaknesses:
Thinking
There we go! So it was a level thing. A half-orc—that was new. I had no particular desire to meet orcs. As for the rest of his stats … this guy couldn’t be more a tank if he were rolling along on tracks. Same level as me with way more health, and an armor class explained by his massive spikey shield and intimidating black plate armor.
These guys would take a pounding and keep coming. Maybe I’d got lucky with my arrows through the chest of that first guard. But then, my first shot had been a total surprise. Backstab kicking in? A lucky crit? It was difficult to know when I never saw damage numbers, but my ax blow had also been without warning.
It made sense. An arrow in the brain tended to kill everyone—zombies aside—irrespective of how much health they had. So all I had to do was ensure my attacks came from stealth, or were inherently lethal.
I ran back down behind the houses, but this time I wasn’t so lucky.
“There!” I heard her shout, and I didn’t need to see the finger that was likely pointing my way. I ran faster, trading stealth for speed, then dropped one of the lanterns behind the next house I passed. Let’s see what that guard’s intelligence of five equated to in practical terms.
I ducked around the corner of the neighboring house, shuttering the other lantern I had, then for good measure, stuffing it safely behind a barrel so that the glow couldn’t be seen. Dusk had properly fallen now, and the only light pollution came from the tapestry of stars already visible in the sky above. The lantern I’d left as bait reflected off the nearby wall with a pleasant orange shine.
Dumb Guard came clanking along, shield ready and sword drawn, drawing closer to where I was hidden. His pace quickened just about when I estimated he should be able to see the reflected light of my bait. He was going to pass right by me, and I pressed my back to the wall, my ax readied just in case. But I needn’t have worried. He jogged past—maybe full speed in that armor—his sword held high, then leaped around the corner and swung it down where he’d anticipated I’d be crouched and terrified.
His sword clanged into the side of the house, and then he froze as if stunned by my inexplicable absence.
I had all the time I needed to step out, aim, and swing hard for the point where what little neck he had was visible just below the back of his helmet. He dropped as my ax severed his spine, his armor-clad bulk crashing down and smashing my lantern. Dammit, I’d still had plans for that.
Grimacing, I once more set about the distasteful task of removing his head preemptively from his zombie body. There was no proof that this would stop Stabby from raising him, but losing their heads definitely killed the zombies, so it was a working theory.
My ax gained another couple of ranks, but I ignored it. Truth be told, I couldn’t wait to be rid of the weapon. Stealth gained a rank too; that was more useful.
“Guards!” Stabby’s shout carried a sense of agitation. I hoped she was beginning to feel alone.
I retrieved the lantern I had left and slunk away, only to pause as more clanking came toward me. Was this a chance to relieve Stabby of her zombie bodyguard one-on-one, or had she come too? I wasn’t ready to face her again. If I died and respawned, losing these weapons, I’d be out of options.
The darkness was now an impediment more than a boon. Something told me the zombies could see perfectly fine, while my vision was limited to only a few feet. Taking this guy down was going to be a real challenge. I either had to get close enough to hack his head off, or somehow get fire inside his armor.
Simple in theory, yet I had no idea how to do either.
Staying behind my corner, I watched as Zombie Guard clanked around to where I’d killed his former compatriot. There he stopped, his head coming up as he scanned for me. His shield wasn’t covering him, his sword was held pointed down. I wouldn’t get a better chance than this.
I drew one of my cloth-wrapped arrows, lighting the tip from the lantern, then came out from behind my corner, bow drawn. He was already coming toward me, having either seen the glow or heard me. I released my arrow anyway, by necessity firing past his shield that covered much of his torso. It caught him high on his shoulder, punching a small way through his armor, but he didn’t even flinch. The flame burned ineffectually, snuffed by his plate mail.
Dammit, I could shoot arrows into him until I ran out and it wouldn’t do any good. I could trail fire across the floor, and he’d just lumber straight through it in that armor. Besides, this zombie was too fresh to have fully dried out and become a walking pyre-in-waiting. Stabby wouldn’t let him fall for the Bjorn-house-barbecue trick, and if he were aware of me, I’d never have the chance to get my ax into his neck.
But what if I killed Stabby? Would he die then, his metaphorical strings cut? I was going to have to face her sooner or later. It was worth a try.
I only had the one plan. I’d been wracking my brains for another way of defeating her, but with her magical shield that blocked my arrows and her insta-teleport to plunge her dagger into my back, options were limited.
Oh well. Worst-case scenario, I died and tried again.
I smashed my lantern into the barrels nearby, spilling oil that caught and began to burn. Maybe it would distract Zombie Guard long enough to buy me a few more seconds with his mistress.
Then I turned and ran between the houses and back to the street, looping my bow as I did, and drawing my rapier and dagger.
I didn’t need long. If this somehow worked, it would be over in a blink—so to speak.
“Necromancer!” I yelled as I ran toward her. She was forty paces away, a silhouette against the remains of Bjorn’s house that was still glowing some distance behind her, the scent of burning thick in the air. She turned to face me, standing still exactly as she had last time. People were creatures of habit … I hoped.
“This time I will kill you!” I shouted as I ran. I wanted her distracted, acting on instinct. Thirty paces.
“I normally let my zombies decay,” she said as she drew her dagger. “But you, I’m going to keep fresh. I’m going to make you serve me in ways of which you could only dream.”
Did she mean what I thought she meant? If so … euugh. I no longer had any compunction about killing this woman. I was only ten paces away, coming on fast, my rapier held where even in the dark she couldn’t miss seeing it.
Five paces. I readied for my strike, my blade held high for the blow I was obviously going to aim at her head.
Two paces. One.
I didn’t even bother to swipe at her. Instead, I jabbed back hard with the dagger in my other hand, an all-or-nothing gamble, a blind shot aimed for where I hoped she would be.
Her dagger sank into my spine even as I felt mine stab through her chest.
She gasped in pain; the last sound I heard as once again my vision faded to darkness.