“We’re almost there.”

The journey from Westover to Sonora was a short one. As Emrys had suspected, it took them longer to complete Greg’s quest than to complete their journey.

Zereh squinted. “Where? I don’t see anything except that old shed.”

“Right, that’s the edge of town. You can make out some of the farmhouses further out, see?” He pointed.

Zereh turned slowly. “The edge of town is an old shed? What kind of place is this?”

“Oh come on,” Emrys objected. “This isn’t just any old shed. In fact…” He skipped over to it. The gray wooden panels were weather-beaten and worn. Time had bored holes and cracks into the thin planks until they were held up by no more than hope and shoestring.

The door hung at an angle, held up more by the padlock than the hinges. Emrys pulled a couple tools out of his pocket and set to work picking the lock. “There’s a new lock. He’s been here recently.”

Zereh watched, faintly amused. “I didn’t think you were the type to learn lockpicking.”

“It’s just a game between Sven and I. Every time we come here we put a new lock on it.” The arcanist blushed. “It was his idea.”

“I could just pull the door off, if you like.”

“You couldn’t. It’s warded against immortals.” He waggled his eyebrows, and for a moment the warrior wasn’t certain if he was joking. “Besides,” he added. “If that’s the way you get in, you don’t deserve what you find.”

She put her hands up in mock surrender.

“Aha!” The lock snapped free with a satisfying click, and the door swung open. There was a painful creak of the hinges, and the door fell off entirely.

Zereh stifled a giggle.

“We used to come out here, when we were boys,” said Emrys. “Nobody ever used this shed, so we made it ours. Look.” He held up something that could uncharitably be called an old stick, but which had clearly been decorated as a wand. Yellow ribbon was tied to the end, and amateur hands had carved the edges with symbols that probably looked magical if you didn’t know anything about magic.

Makeshift cloaks hung from half-bent nails three or four feet high. They were patchwork things, made of old towels and scraps, but they had the look of something well loved.

Emrys pulled one off and wrapped it around his shoulders. It was far too small to fasten, so he held it around his neck as far as it would go. The cloak was a mix of blues with a poorly sewn design of wings on either side.

“What do you think?” he asked with childish pride.

“It’s cute.” Looking around the shed, she noticed there were cloaks designed for each of the major elements. “What brought you all the way out here? Why not play in Westover?”

“Sven’s mother used to send us out here to help with chores around town. Not many people live around here, and a lot of those who do are elderly.” He set the cloak back on the makeshift hook. “When we didn’t want to do chores, we came here instead.”

“You got away with that?”

“For a while,” Emrys laughed. “Eventually she found out we weren’t showing up where we were supposed to, and she sent someone after us. That’s how Sven met Stephanie, actually.”

Zereh pocketed one of the toy wands. “They’ve been together a long time, then? I mean they were, before she…died.”

The arcanist bit his lip. “Sort of. They didn’t get along right away, you know? But then one day, I realized he was spending more time with her than he was with me.”

“That sounds about right.” She edged her way out of the old shed. “Come on. Unless they’re anything of importance here?”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Emrys took one last look around, and his gaze landed on a scrap of paper on the floor. “He was here!” He handed the paper to Zereh. “This matches the runes we found in his bedroom. Remember the torn piece? I bet this is the other half.”

“Excellent! We’re on the right track. Let’s keep going.”

The two adventurers left the shed behind, not bothering to reattach the door. There wasn’t anything valuable in there, nothing worth taking. No reason to lock it back up.

But as they closed in on the farms of Sonora, Emrys couldn’t help but think it had been too long since he’d visited that shed. Too long since he’d gone to Sonora with his best friend.

It was entirely possible he was…a bad friend. He’d drifted from Sven so slowly over time that he hadn’t even noticed it happening. Their visits together had grown fewer and farther between, their conversations shallower.

In fairness, Sven had let it happen too. If anything, Emrys would have expected…well. It didn’t matter now. He’d bring his friend home, and he would fix things. Whatever it took.

His head rose, his eyes filled with grim determination–only to see Zereh staring at him with an odd look on her face.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

She pursed her lips. “You’ve had a full life here, haven’t you?”

The arcanist raised an eyebrow. “No more than anyone else, I suppose. Is that such a surprise?”

Rather than answer, the warrior checked her swords. “Be ready. I have a feeling that when we get close, the necromancer will send his forces against us.”

A fireball flared to life. “You think he knows we’re coming?”

Zereh shrugged. “We haven’t been subtle in our questioning. If he has spies anywhere, he’ll know we’re coming.”

“We shouldn’t stay long, then. We’ll find Stephanie’s mom, ask if she’s seen Sven.”

There was a point near Main Street where the dirt road transitioned to cobblestones. Despite Emrys’s insistence that the shed marked the edge of town, it was generally accepted that the real marker was the cobblestone street.

The second Zereh set foot on the cobblestones, a cloud passed over the sun.

Emrys glanced up. “That’s odd. Skies were clear just a moment ago.”

Storm clouds were rolling in quickly overhead, replacing blue with gray.

“Everyone inside! Everyone get inside now!”

Zereh and Emrys hurried toward the voice.

“What is it, what’s happening?”

The woman barely spared them a glance as she frantically shepherded a group of children into the school house.

“Storm’s coming,” she snapped. “They’ve been getting bad around here lately, so I’d suggest you go indoors. Jason! Jason, get in here right now!”

A boy no more than six was watching them from across the street. “I want to play in the puddles, Miss Mary,” he whined.

The woman glared. “Get in here now. Don’t make me come after you.”

“No!” The boy ran off, his face turned up to catch the light rain that was already beginning to fall.

“Jason!” Mary stepped one foot out the door then stopped short. She looked back at the huddle of children behind her.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” said Zereh. “We’ll go after him.”

Mary turned back to the adventurers. “Thank you,” she said, and slammed the door.

Emrys and Zereh shared a look.

“We’d better hurry if we want to find him before this turns into a downpour.” Emrys held up a hand to catch the raindrops. “I’ve never seen a storm come in this fast.”

“Right, then. He went this way.” Zereh strode quickly through town, ducking between buildings and weaving her way through town.

“Do you have a tracking spell on him?”

“A tracking…? Oh yes, something like that.” She stopped under a church. “Jason!”

A small head poked out from the other side of the bell tower. His hair was flattened and dripping wet. “Go away!” he shouted.

“If you come back with us, I’ll give you candy,” she offered. Water ran down her face and armor. The storm was picking up, and lightning crackled through the clouds.

Emrys shivered. He had the feeling someone was controlling the storm, guiding it into Sonora again and again. The clouds were thick with swirling mana, constrained and itching to be released. It was even trickling into the rainwater ever so slightly. Without his ring he never would have noticed it, but with the boost to his water and earth affinity he could sense a whiff of mana in the raindrops.

That much residual mana didn’t happen naturally.

A thick bolt of lightning slammed into the bell tower. Jason screamed. The boy curled into a tight ball, his head between his knees.

Magic rippled outward from where the lightning struck, running down the church walls and into the earth. It was more mana than Emrys had ever seen outside of a dungeon, concentrating in pockets underground.

An arm broke through the earth. Bony fingers scrabbled at the grass and dug furrows into the mud as the hand pulled up, dragging out the rest of its body.

Emrys stared in horror. The creature was half decomposed, flesh barely hanging on to the skeletal frame. Ragged strips of leather served as meager armor.

It reached out to the boy.

Zereh stabbed it through the midsection, her sword easily piercing the leather. The bones rattled, but the creature didn’t fall.

Jason whimpered.

Emrys shot a fireball at the zombie’s head. Flame coated the exposed bone and seared the strips of decayed flesh. Its jaw hinged wide and the creature let out an awful screech. Black smoke wisped out of its mouth, and it collapsed into a pile of bone.

“Jason, get on my back.” Emrys knelt beside the boy so he could clamber up. Jason wrapped his arms around the arcanist’s neck, and Emrys rose carefully. The boy was heavy, but they weren’t far from the school.

Zereh took the lead, swords at the ready. “Where are they coming from?”

“Everywhere!”