The necromancer’s cave ran through a hill surrounded by dense forest. The trees outside the cave had stout trunks and sturdy branches, which made them perfect for my preparations. Phioren watched, arms folded and head cocked to the side, as I tied my lengths of rope. When I finished, she shook her head.
“You’ve proven your facility with ropes, but I can’t fathom how all of this will help you defeat the necromancer.”
“I’ve never heard of an undead creature who could climb. When I run out of the cave, I’ll climb this rope and shoot from the treetop.”
“And the other rope? The one between the trees? What purpose does that serve?”
I pointed to the first tightrope. “If a creature knocks down the first tree, I’ll run across this rope to the second.”
“And if the second tree is overturned, you’ll run across that other rope?”
“Right. And if both trees are knocked over, I’ll run for my life.”
Phioren raised her eyebrows. “Then your entire plan consists of hiding, attacking, running, and hiding again?”
“It doesn’t sound impressive when you put it like that… but that’s it.”
“I see,” Phioren said. “I wish I could help, but as I’ve said, the undead are immune to my magic. I’ll leave you to the task at hand.”
I smiled and loaded a bolt into my Crossbow of Murder. From what Orla had said, bolts became enchanted when fired from an enchanted crossbow, so even a regular bolt would harm the necromancer’s creations.
I entered the cave's mouth, which was wide enough for three people to enter side-by-side. The walls of the tunnel were rounded, nearly circular, and looked to have been originally formed as the lair of a gigantic worm. I heard footsteps in the distance and beyond that, whistling. The tune was sprightly and annoying, like something blared from the speakers of an ice cream truck.
I proceeded slowly through the tunnel, putting my Stealth ability to full use. After about twenty paces, a four-legged creature lumbered toward me. It had scales, short legs, and eyes on either side of a long, narrow head. It opened its mouth and snarled, emitting a horrible stench and revealing long rows of arrowhead-sized teeth. A crocodile. The beast’s milky white eyes had no pupils, and I assumed this indicated that it was undead.
Despite its convulsions, the crocodile moved quickly toward me. I thought about firing, but if it roared, more creatures would come. I fled the cave and climbed the first of my ropes.
“That was fast,” Phioren said. “Trouble?”
“Just target practice.”
The undead crocodile ran out of the cave and leapt upward at me. I fired a bolt and struck the center of its back. The crocodile could jump higher than I’d expected, but I was never in real danger. Four shots later, the +800 XP! message appeared.
The next monster was an orc zombie (+900 XP!), which was followed by a pair of undead bullywugs (+550 XP! +550 XP!). When I returned to the cave, I came closer to the source of the whistling, but I still couldn’t see the necromancer.
Rustling sounded from the roof of the tunnel. I stepped back toward the entrance, strapped on my crossbow, and cast See Hidden. A glowing outline of a worm-shaped creature appeared on the tunnel’s roof, and the monster was rapidly digging downward.
I sprinted to the mouth of the cave, and when I glanced back, a purple worm burst through the ceiling and wriggled toward me, its body occupying most of the tunnel. It opened its gaping mouth to reveal rows of long, hooked teeth leading to darkness. I fled the cave and climbed to my perch.
“What is it this time?” Phioren asked. “A zombie kobold?”
“Wo-worm!” I told her, frantically loading my crossbow. "Big worm!"
The creature burst out of the tunnel and rammed into my tree, biting away a large portion of the trunk. I hit it with three bolts, but the monster’s health bar barely moved. It struck the trunk again, harder this time, and it became obvious that the tree was about to fall. I ran across the first of my tightropes and sat on a branch in the second tree. I fired five bolts at the monster, bringing its health down by a third. But the worm didn’t even slow down.
“Just a moment!” Phioren said happily. “This one isn’t undead. Perhaps I can help.”
The hag levitated above the swamp’s surface and glided toward my tree, which was going to snap at any moment. Two bursts of green lightning erupted from her hands, and the worm’s health bar turned green and began to plummet.
To be safe, I ran across my last tightrope and sat high in the third tree. I fired down at the huge purple worm, whose health was decreasing quickly. Two shots later, the beast fell into the swamp water. +1,150 XP!
I climbed down, exhausted but unwounded. “Thank you.”
“Are there more creatures inside?”
“I don’t know, but I’m getting closer to the necromancer. It’s strange—he’s whistling for some reason.”
After catching my breath, I re-entered the cave. I continued forward silently, listening for footsteps or rustling beyond the tunnel walls.
But there were no more footsteps or strange sounds. Just the corny whistling. I reached the far end of the tunnel, which opened into a circular, well-furnished laboratory. Torches, bookcases, and shelves of figurines stood against the wall along with a strange vegetable garden. At the far end, a four-poster bed with ermine curtains made it clear that the occupant appreciated his luxuries.
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As I stepped farther inside, I saw a pale, black-robed man standing over the prone body of a naga like a surgeon attending to a patient. But instead of cutting into the naga’s body, he poured a black concoction into its mouth, and then consulted a ponderous tome mounted on a table. If his whistling was any indication, he enjoyed his work.
I loaded a bolt of poison into my crossbow, lined up the jeweled gunsight, and fired, striking the necromancer in his left shoulder. His health bar turned green, but he didn’t shout. He gritted his teeth, yanked my bolt from his shoulder, and removed a black potion from the folds of his robe. After one sip, his health bar turned red and his health was fully restored. Instead of facing me, he turned to face the vegetable garden.
“I mustn’t be disturbed, Tiburon.” The man’s voice was aristocratic and annoyed. “Remove this intruder from the laboratory and kill him.”
I couldn’t see anyone else in the room, but then the vegetable garden stood up on thick, wooden legs. I watched in shock as a head and a mighty pair of arms emerged from the green mass, and in the center, two angry red eyes began to glow. The creature looked like the offspring of Frankenstein’s monster and a rosebush. I struggled to remember what these monsters had been called in the games I’d played, and then the name struck me: shambling mound.
“YES, MASTER.”
Tiburon’s voice sounded as though it had emerged from a bottomless pit. He stomped toward me, arms outstretched.
I cast Flash to blind the monster, and then strapped on my crossbow and turned to run. But Tiburon took me by the waist and hurled me headfirst at the room’s exit. I could barely see anything after hitting the wall, but I had enough strength to get to my feet and stagger into the tunnel.
⚔
Tiburon stomped behind me as I fled. My health had fallen to 7, which meant another solid blow from the monstrous plant-man would probably kill me. But despite his superior strength, I was faster.
“YOU DISTURBED THE MASTER. YOU MUST PERISH.”
I drank my last Potion of Lesser Healing, which raised my health to 12. As the pain dropped, I found myself able to run without staggering, and I increased my lead as Tiburon followed me through the tunnel. By the time I reached the hole in the ceiling, the shambling mound was at least forty feet away.
The wall of the tunnel was smooth, but thanks to the hooks in my boots, I climbed into the hole from which the worm had attacked me. I reached a narrow, stone ledge ten feet above the tunnel floor, and then I sat and loaded my crossbow.
Tiburon stood below me and glared upward. He tried to land a punch, but I was too high up. Like wolves, nagas, and the undead, shambling mounds couldn’t climb.
“COME DOWN, INTRUDER. FACE ME AND—AAAH!”
My bolt of fire struck Tiburon in his neck, and he howled as the flames spread across his body. Tiburon’s health bar fell to two-thirds of its maximum and continued dropping. I fired three more times at close range, but I needn’t have bothered. Despite the necromancy, most of Tiburon’s body was plant-based, so he burned like a Yule log. +1,400 XP!
A plus sign shimmered in the upper right—I was happy to see that I’d gained another level. I focused on the plus sign, and a dialog box appeared, entitled WELCOME TO LEVEL 7! SELECT ONE OF THE FOLLOWING ABILITIES:
1. Called Shot – select target location and do special harm
2. Sneak Attack – gain extra attack if the target can’t see you
3. Weapon Specialization – become more skilled with a weapon
I chose Called Shot without a moment’s hesitation. If it worked as it did in other fantasy games, then I could use my crossbow to do more than just inflict injury. If I called “right arm” and hit, the target would be disarmed. If I called “eye” and hit, the target would be blinded. The problem was that called shots were much more difficult than regular shots.
After choosing my new ability, I staggered out of the necromancer’s tunnel. Phioren’s face brightened.
“You were in there for some time. Were you able to dispatch the menace?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I killed his servant and the last of his creatures, so now it’s just him and me. But I’m wounded, so unless you know healing spells, I'll need to mix some potions before I go back in.”
“I can’t cast healing spells, but I can concoct a healing potion far more potent than anything you can mix with your mortar and pestle.”
“Sounds wonderful. Can you share the recipe?”
Phioren smiled. “I’m afraid not. My method of alchemy is… quite different from yours. Hand me a flask, and I'll show you.”
I handed Phioren an empty flask, and she bent down and filled her mouth with swamp water. I watched in shock as she threw her head back, gargled loudly, and spat into the flask, filling it with a translucent violet liquid. Then she wiped her mouth and handed me the flask, beaming with pride.
“This will not only heal your wounds,” she said, “but also improve your fighting ability for a time.”
I was too scared to drink. The last time a woman had given me an unknown concoction, the results had been disastrous. I tried to think of something polite to say, but failed.
Phioren gaped. “You don’t trust me? You really think I’d poison you before you face the necromancer?”
“I don’t think you’d poison me, but your kind…”
“My kind?” Phioren put her hands on her hips. “I believe you refer to my kind as green hags, is that right?”
“Ah, yes. Your kind has a reputation for being… ah…”
“Deceitful? Treacherous?”
“I was going to say unreliable. I’m sure the stories I’ve heard aren’t all true, but I just don’t feel safe drinking this—whatever this is.”
“If I wanted to deceive you, young man, I wouldn’t have appeared to you in my true form. I would have done this!”
With a waggle of her fingers, Phioren transformed into a princess with pale-green skin and flowing emerald hair. She wore a jade tiara and a form-fitting blue-green dress. Despite the alteration, her voice remained that of an old woman.
“Help me, brave adventurer! The evil swamp wizard has cursed my kingdom and only you can save us!”
“I’m sorry I offended you. But let’s not—"
“Or I could have done this!”
Another waggle. Phioren shrank to the size of a pixie and floated in the air on mottled green butterfly wings. She clasped her hands together. Once again, her voice didn’t change.
“Save us, adventurer! The evil sorcerer has kidnapped our fairy queen, and we’ll pay your weight in gold if you save her!”
“This isn’t necessary. I just meant—”
“Or this!”
Rather than look at her next transformation, I downed the strange potion in two gulps. Then I closed my eyes. To my relief, I didn’t feel any strange effects or unexplained impulses. According to my character sheet, my health had reached its maximum of 42, and the enchantment on the Crossbow of Murder had risen from +2 to +5. But the weapon’s enchantment would last for only one hour.
“That was… a fine potion. I’m sorry for doubting you.”
When I opened my eyes, Phioren had returned to her original form as a green hag. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest.
“My kind does have a horrible reputation, and if I’m being honest, many of my sisters commit misdeeds out of pure spite. But not me, not anymore. I’ve lived in the Baildril for over 400 years, and I think of its creatures as my family. That’s why I loathe this necromancer with every fiber of my being. His monstrous alchemy befouls the water, the plants, and the very air.”
I unstrapped my crossbow. “I’ll take care of him.”