Julius looked into the night as his fellow Lich cultists moved about the camp, their frigid hands reaching for pitiful fires that warded away the night.

“What are we thinking?” Sven asked, his face wreathed in shadow.

“That Alaric should have returned by now.” Julius squinted, hoping to see some glimmer of light in the distance, some inkling that his apprentice was out there.

“This whole business with the Grave Lord never sat right with me,” Sven said, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Just putting that out there for when the whole operation falls through.”

Julius sighed. They’d spent considerable resources and time forging an alliance with this so-called Grave Lord, yet Julius’ master, the esteemed Lich Calhaven, still refused to explain the reasoning for such a partnership. But it wasn’t in Julius’ nature to question the master, so he listened to his men’s complaints the best he could. Though days spent in a monster infested swamp had done little to lighten he or his underlings’ mood.

“Our job is not to question Sven, but to fulfill our duties to the best of our abilities.” It was the third time in four days Julius had used that line, and even he was growing tired of hearing it.

“But why do our duties include building an outpost out here of all places?” Sven gestured at the men gathered around their tents, the buzz of mosquitos thick in the air.

Julius pinched the bridge of his nose, a motion that was becoming common. “Shouldn’t you be on watch? We are in dangerous territory.”

Sven huffed and turned back to stare into the swamp. “Perimeter is secure. I made sure of it.”

“And our little green friends?”

“Chased away. Ven lit one on fire to scare the rest. Doubt they’ll be back after that.”

“One can hope.” The goblins were a bit of a surprise, one of many since they set foot in this damned forest. Oh how I long for the crypts and dungeons of home.

“How long do we wait before we send someone to check on the delivery?” Sven asked.

“If Alaric does not appear by this time tomorrow night, we will send someone to check. Does that satisfy you?” Sven was an excellent guard, the kind of man you wanted at your back in an ugly fight. But his never-ending questions were about to make Julius bury his head in a bog.

“Isn’t that waiting a bit long?”

Julius groaned and continued peering into the night. Alaric, where are you?

***

Alaric panted his way through the forest, his bone mask long tossed aside. He had little idea where he was going, but he trudged on, the air growing damper with each step. The night was dark, the clouds above thick and suffocating. I should never have come to this place. He swatted away a mosquito, his breath hissing as he vaulted over a felled tree.

He’d ran until his legs gave out the previous night. Luckily, the paladin and the archer had given up before long. But they had to put an arrow in my leg first. His only healing spell, [Mend] had done precious little, and he was forced to wait a full day until he could use it again. But his leg still throbbed, each step a struggle. But the camp must be close. He muttered a silent prayer, one to gods he no longer believed in.

The ground became spongy and wet, the air smelling of rot. The swamp. Luck had seen him head in the right direction, but now he faced a fresh problem. Which way is it? They’d arrived in the swamp by way of the western Imperial Road. It was days of marching through the forest, Julius barking orders at them the entire time. When they happened upon the ruins, Julius ordered them to make camp. Delivering the coffin from there had been difficult, and Alaric cursed at himself for not paying better attention to the route they took.

He hobbled through a puddle and stood on the bank, the air seeming to grow darker. The Nether Gates influence, perhaps? It wasn’t his position to question the master, but his allegiance with the Grave Lord had proved nothing but trouble thus far. When he made it back to camp, he would have words with Julius. His mentor loved questions, after all.

Something bubbled in the water, a scaled snout appearing. Then another materialized not far away, the beast emerging from the muck. Alaric backed away, ready to cast a spell if need be. But then the two alligators turned and fled back into the water, the sound of buzzing drawing closer. More damned mosquitoes.

But this buzzing was far too loud.

He spun and cast [Fire Bolt] the first blood bug falling to the ground wreathed in flame. The next he battered down with his staff, the third falling to a spray of ice from his palm. But yet more twitched and writhed in the trees above, and Alaric turned, casting [Veil of Mist] before hobbling into the darkness.

He willed his aching leg to move faster, but the wound the archer left in him burned fiercely. After turning a bend in the path, his boot slipped in the mud and he tumbled. Laying there, covered in filth, he contemplated giving up for a moment. But then he rolled, his palm sending arcane flame into the horde.

Then an arrow whistled through the air, striking one of the creatures down. More came from the darkness behind Alaric, the small shafts cutting into the swarm. My brothers came to my rescue! Alaric shot more fire at the fleeing monsters, his body coursing with adrenalin. But as he rose and inspected one of the small shafts, he remembered something. We brought crossbows with us, but these are regular arrows. And they’re so small. He turned, his heart seeming to skip a beat as he saw the rows of snarling teeth chittering in the shadows.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Drop the staff,” a small voice said. “Or we get to stabbing.”

Alaric tapped his staff on the ground. Goblins? He laughed, his sanity chipping away.

“It’s crazy,” another voice said. “Better to shoot it now.”

Alaric thought about fighting, but there were too many of them. And his leg wept, trickles of blood running down his leg. In the end, he dropped his staff on the ground.

The little green creatures swarmed forward, some surrounding Alaric while others picked their arrows from the bug’s corpses. Yet more appeared to carry the bug’s bodies on their backs, some pointing and arguing about who shot what.

“You will go to the chief,” one of them said, a crooked knife in its hands. “Or I stab.”

“Understood,” Alaric replied, feeling like he must have become cursed without realizing it.

Some of the other creatures started pointing their weapons at Alaric and arguing, snarling and biting at each other. But the goblin with the knife hushed them with a stern glare. “We only eat if the chief says we eat.”

Alaric realized they’d just been arguing about eating him. He looked into the swamp, hoping to see some sign of Julius or the others.

“Walk,” the little monster said, jabbing at Alaric with his crooked knife.

And so Alaric shuffled deeper into the swamp, a horde of angry goblins surrounding him.

***

“That’s enough,” Gorm said, his palms facing out.

“But I still haven’t hit you.” Darian lowered his fist.

“Well I’m tired,” Gorm said, lowering himself to the ground. “You got a blessed set of lungs or something?”

Darian sat on the grass opposite Gorm. “Something like that.”

Gorm spat into the bushes. “You’re lucky the chief is so out of sorts with this job. Any other time, and she’d be up your ass with constant questions.”

“I take it you haven’t seen someone like me before?”

Gorm shook his head. “Not that I remember. Especially that hair.” He ran a finger along his dark braid. “Some Elves and gnomes have odd hair colors, but that silvery white is something I’ve never seen.”

“Gnomes?”

“What? Never seen one before?” Gorm smiled. “They live in a mushroom forest far, far to the west. You’re likely never to run across one, but if you do,” Gorm’s face became rigid, his voice deathly serious. “Never play them in a game of cards.”

Darian couldn’t tell if he was joking and so he simply nodded.

Zan appeared from the forest, a fresh rabbit in his mouth. He padded over to Darian and laid the creature by Darian’s side, then gave him a lick on the arm.

“Good boy,” Darian said, scratching the wolf between the ears.

“Well,” Gorm said, frowning. “Where’s mine?”

“I’ll be hunting in the early morning,” Fria said, appearing from behind Darian. “You’ll get that full belly, I promise.”

Gorm rubbed his stomach. “Don’t know, I might starve before then.”

Darian snatched up the rabbit and let his fangs emerge. Gorm raised a brow at it but seemed more intrigued than anything. After Darian finished draining the animal, he tossed it over to Gorm. “Not sure if you want it, but you’re welcome to cook what’s left if you want.”

Gorm eyed the rabbit but ended up sliding it over to Zan, much to the wolf’s delight.

“I’ll pass.” He narrowed his eyes. “But you truly don’t eat the flesh? Just drink the blood? Must come in handy.”

“It has its perks,” Darian admitted.

“You up for patrolling?” Fria asked Gorm. “Your boss is asleep, and I tried talking to Gustan, but the alchemist is rather absorbed in his work.”

“Aye I’ll patrol.” Gorm grunted as he rose, then stretched his back. “We can practice more later, if you want.” Gorm said. “You were starting to get close.” Then he walked away, leaving Fria, Zan, and Darian in silence.

“I saw you two sparring,” Fria said, settling onto the grass. “He’s faster than he looks.”

“Hits harder than you’d think too.” He touched his sore ribs. “I’m not sure why he wants to train me. We just met.”

“Maybe he was just bored. Or maybe he likes you.”

Darian scoffed at that. “Find anything interesting while out on patrol?”

“Nothing that would excite you.” Fria looked up at the stars, her eyes lost for a moment. “We’ll be fighting the undead again tomorrow.”

“That we will,” Darian answered, a mixture of fear and excitement brewing within him.

“We’ll have more help this time.” Fria stretched out on the grass. “But I can’t help but be worried.”

“I’m worried too, but we made it through the fort. We’ll crush this gate and then the last if we must. Then the necromancer herself will fall.”

“You make all of that sound simple.”

“It is once you get down to it, but don’t worry,” Darian said. “I’ll make sure we get through it in one piece.”

“Is that a promise?” Fria asked, sitting up, her lips drawn into a frown.

“It is.” Her face brightened, if only a little. “So don’t let that worry affect your aim. I’ll be counting on you to cover me tomorrow.”

“And that’s a tall order, let me tell you.” She smiled. “You’re almost too fast to keep up with sometimes.”

“Well, I appreciate the effort.” Darian relaxed, letting his back rest on the cool grass. “So, you said you wanted to talk more about our parents?”

And so they did. They swapped stories, triumphs and failures, laughter and sadness. They did this until Fria’s eyes started to drift close, and she rose on tired feet.

“Think I’ll be heading to bed now. I’ve got an early morning.”

“Just make sure to rest after you’re done hunting,” Darian said, still seated.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

With a parting smile, Fria disappeared around the rock face with Zan trailing behind her, leaving Darian alone with his thoughts. He rested his elbows on his knees, thinking about the battles to come. I’ll get stronger, but not only that, I’ll learn to control my thirst. If he was ever going to feel safe around people, his thirst was still the mountain he needed to climb. With renewed resolve, he rose to his feet, eager to face the challenges tomorrow would bring.