“Rolf, stop!”
I took a hasty step backwards. One of the guards grabbed at Rolf’s arm, but Rolf plowed over him without breaking stride, knocking the man down and trampling him, eyes fixed blankly on me as if he didn’t even see the guard fall. His hammer was already rising.
“Rolf, it’s Kaelan!”
My name only seemed to aggravate him further. His lips curled back, baring white, bloodless gums, and he swung the hammer down.
I was so stunned I almost didn’t move, but my dodge skill kicked in, boosting my sluggish reflexes just enough. But I was too slow to avoid him when he barreled into me, knocking me flying. I hit the ground a few feet back, winded, limbs loose as water.
Rolf had always been strong, but that was like being hit by a damn semi-truck.
He was coming again. The hammer rose, but this time I was in complete accord with my dodge skill. I rolled out from under it, scrambling back to my feet. The hammer struck the ground, leaving a crater where my chest had been.
Had I wronged him somehow? Slept with his wife? Surely I’d remember that.
I held my hands out in what I hoped was a mollifying way. “Rolf, whatever it is…”
Two of the guards rushed in, and one swung an ax.
“No!” I shouted, but Rolf’s hammer was already swinging for my head, forcing me to duck. It whirred past, close enough to stir my hair.
There was nothing I could do as the ax came down on his arm with a sickening crunch. The arm sheared clean off, the ax driving through and into his side. Jagged splinters of white bone protruded from the mangled flesh—yet there was no blood.
The severed arm dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, hammer still gripped in the dead fingers.
I watched, sickened, as Rolf clamped his boot down on it, stooped, and wrenched the hammer free.
“Damn it, Rolf,” I whispered, drawing my rapier.
“Fuck…!” one of the guards gasped, backing away.
Left-handed, Rolf raised his hammer again, his face blank as a mask, oblivious to his missing arm and the horrific injury in his side.
And there was still no blood.
I dodged to the side as the hammer came down. No-longer-Rolf was even stronger than he had been in life, but he wasn’t fast. I thrust the point of my rapier into his chest, and he didn’t make a sound. The hammer rose again.
“Sorry, my friend.” Gritting my teeth, I gripped my blade and swung again, taking his head off clean at the neck. It bounced in the dirt a few feet away, rolling to a stop, and his torso swayed. For a heartbeat, I feared it wasn’t enough. Then his legs crumpled, and Rolf was still.
We all stared at the decapitated body, as if expecting it to rise again. But it didn’t. Rolf was, at last, truly dead. And I hoped wherever he was, he’d finally be at peace.
“What the fuck was that?” one of the guards breathed.
I’d been wondering the same.
“Fucking zombie!” another guard muttered.
Yep. That’s what I’d been wondering. But how?
“Necromancy,” the first guard said, and both of them made some intricate twirling motion with their hands. I wasn’t sure it would ward off Rolf’s hammer, let alone a necromancer.
I turned away, feeling sick, walking back toward where I’d left my horse. The guards were talking about burning Rolf’s body and the dead guard inside the gatehouse, just in case.
“Kaelan?” one of them called.
I kept walking. I needed my horse, and to get back to the girls.
“Kaelan!” His call was more insistent. I turned, barely hiding my impatience. “Will there be more zombies?”
Rolf had come looking for me specifically, with the sole purpose of burying his hammer in my chest. It couldn’t get more personal. Would the necromancer know his hold over Rolf was broken?
Fernwick. If the villagers weren’t already dead, they might soon be.
“Not if I can help it,” I said grimly. “But double the guards on the gates.”
I didn’t know if they’d listen; it wasn’t like I had any authority here, but their expressions suggested commonsense was a powerful motivator.
Turning away, I walked faster. I had to get back to the girls, then reach Fernwick and discover what had happened. I had to stop anymore zombies that might come after me.
And I had to find that necromancer—and kill the son of a bitch.
*
I was quiet and contemplative for the journey back down south to Fernwick, Rolf’s death playing over in my mind.
The girls had reacted with horror when they learned of his fate, and they kept casting concerned glances at me as we rode, their eyes full of questions.
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I ignored them. I didn’t have the answers.
Drakos must have sent his necromancer after me; that much was obvious. Somehow, I’d been tracked to Fernwick—or maybe Lira had been. Was she in danger too? I had to assume she was.
At least we’d brought Senna with us. If she’d stayed behind … fuck, I didn’t want to finish that thought.
What level would a necromancer need to be to raise Rolf and send him on a four-day trek to find me? More than four days—we’d had horses, he hadn’t.
Wait, that made no sense. It had only been five days since we left Fernwick. The necromancer would’ve had to arrive right after we’d left, and even then, Rolf would’ve needed five or six days to cover that distance.
But that assumed he rested and couldn’t travel at night. Walking all day and all night—no reason for him not to—yes, that made sense. Three days, maybe. So the necromancer had to have arrived within a day or two of us leaving.
Dammit. If I’d been there, could I have stopped him? Or would we all be dead, Lira and Senna included?
I needed to keep the girls away until I knew what I was up against. And I needed to be at my best for this. A necromancer wasn’t a bandit or even a trained soldier. He was a significant threat.
I reviewed my character sheet; my skills had ranked up fast, courtesy of my God Power. I was definitely getting better at this stuff. But would it be enough to face a Necromancer?
The reminders at the bottom of the page caught my eye: an attribute point to spend, another perk, and twelve skill points waiting to be allocated. I’d been in no rush to spend them, waiting to see what came up, but if there was ever a time to use them, it was now.
What was I aiming for here? I’d never be able to stand toe-to-toe with Drakos in a brawl; my strength wasn’t my Strength. My edge was Agility and Speed—and my intelligence, though I hadn’t done a great job of using it so far. Still, it helped me gain skills faster. Perhaps my intelligence was the reason for my God Power. If Strength had been my primary stat, my God Power might have been something like ‘Hulk-out for five minutes’. There was no way of knowing.
Anyway, I needed to concentrate on what I could do, not what I couldn’t. and that meant an Agility focus. Define Agility.
Agility: A measure of dexterity, reflexes and precision. Affects ranged attacks, dodging, stealth, and accuracy with weapons.
That was pretty much as I’d expected, though I hadn’t realized it affected my Archery too. Maybe that was why my bow was ranking up fast.
It didn’t spell out what a higher Agility would do in practical terms, but given the mechanics of this world, I figured it would make my related skills and secondary attributes improve faster. It was the obvious choice.
Buy Agility.
Agility has gained 1 point.
Alright. Now for the perk.
Show Perks.
In addition to the ones I’d seen before, a few new ones appeared:
Available Perks (Level 9):
Combat-Oriented:
1. Power Strike: Increases damage with heavy weapons by 15%.
2. Arrow Rain: Gain the ability to fire arrows in quick succession.
Non-Combat:
1. Silver Tongue: Significantly improves success in persuasion and deception during dialogue.
2. Horse Whisperer: Gain greater control over mounts, increasing speed and stamina during travel.
I still liked the look of Quick Strike, from the earlier perks, for increased attack speed, and Precise Aim for my bow, but I could cover those off with skill increases. Heavy weapons weren’t my thing, so that was out. Arrow Rain was the obvious choice.
Buy new perk: Arrow Rain.
You have gained a new perk: Arrow Rain.
A picture was forming. A dual-wielding, stealthy archer with high dexterity, agility and speed. Thinking back to my D&D game, it sounded like a Ranger. I might not have a Class yet, but at least I could work toward one. Maybe I could find a trainer, make it official.
It seemed like the best way to counter Drakos’ brute strength. I could see it: dodging his blows, darting in to strike, then spinning away before he could recover. Although the bastard had been faster than I’d expected in our last encounters.
Still, it was a plan. I had twelve skill points to spend; I dumped four each in Archery, Dodge and Stealth, then reviewed my sheet again:
Kaelan
Class
None
Race
Human
Level
9
Age
28
Armor Class
13 (18)
Primary
Secondary
Skills
Strength
11
Attack
20
Archery
28
Agility
17
Defense
14
Weapon (Sword)
27
Intelligence
17
Endurance
14
Dodge
19
Wisdom
13
Luck
3
Unarmed Combat
16
Fortitude
8
Perception
8
Stealth
13 (11)
Charisma
14
Resilience
6
Weapon (Dagger)
12
Health
81
Speed
23
Foraging
11
Willpower
9
Sex (Women)
10 (more)
Companion: High Priestess Lira (see separate sheet)
Companion: Senna (see separate sheet)
Perks: Keen Observer, Backstab, Arrow Rain
Powers: God Level 2
That looked better. Whether it would be enough to defeat Drakos’ necromancer? Only time would tell. Show more. Dual Wielding was at 10. Leadership at 2, as was Riding. Skills I’d need to work on eventually. Throwing was at 6—I’d likely need that one sooner than later.
And I was level 9. Halfway to Drakos, assuming he hadn’t leveled up as well. I’d wanted to hit ten levels higher and absolutely destroy him the way he had me, but it looked like time wasn’t on my side. Valorah’s people were running out of it—what had happened with Drakos’ men in Taralith was a prime example of that, and Rolf’s fate was proof too.
The bastard had to die, sooner rather than later.
But first, I needed to get back to Fernwick and find this necromancer.
Then I was going to kill him.