The sound of cheering drew Emrys and Zereh out to the school yard. The whole town had gathered, it seemed. The children were released from their temporary captivity and had already started playing some sort of zombie game. Even Jason had joined the fun and was running around moaning for brainz.
“This is kind of nice,” Emrys said. He stood taller, shoulders back. Clearing dungeons never earned him this sort of recognition.
“I don’t think this is for us.” Zereh pointed.
Several farmers were marching down the streets with a paladin hoisted onto their shoulders. His steel armor was painted white and gold, so bright it was hard to look directly at him.
“Who the heck is that?” Emrys scowled at the interloper.
“Sarah, is that you?” The knight motioned to the farmers to let him down and strode over to the two adventurers.
“Brayden?”
“You know this guy?” The man reeked of immortal arrogance. Emrys had grown accustomed to Zereh’s more down to earth attitude, but the paladin’s swagger reminded the arcanist of every negative encounter he’d had with an immortal. Here was a man who considered himself above the law, who didn’t see mortals as people worthy of genuine respect.
“It is you! You look the same, but hot! That’s so funny.” The knight pulled the warrior into a quick hug and kept his arm around her shoulders when they parted. “You won’t believe this. I teleported into town and there were all these zombies running around. So I start swinging, you know, and I’m so strong I can knock ‘em out with one hit. Next thing I know, I’m some sort of hero to these people. ”
“I go by Zereh here, actually.”
He nodded vaguely. “What do you think of my gear? I bought it off a total nerd who’s been working on the character since the beta–”
“Brayden! Stop. There are certain things you can’t say here, remember? Or you’ll be forced out.”
The paladin rolled his eyes. “Right, almost forgot. Big Brother is watching.” He wiggled his fingers in front of Zereh’s face.
Emrys cleared his throat. “Who are you, exactly? How do you two know each other?”
Brayden looked Emrys over and smiled, slow and predatory. “Sarah, you didn’t tell me you already had a boyfriend here. He’s cute.” He reached out to ruffle Emrys’s hair. The arcanist jerked back out of the way.
Zereh sighed. “Brayden, this is Emrys. He’s an arcanist with a specialty in fire magic, and he’s been helping me on this quest.”
“Oh yeah! We’re looking for the necromancer, right? The one who sent all those skellies? That’s so cool, it’s like a scavenger hunt.”
“We’re looking for my friend,” Emrys corrected.
“Who’s probably been taken by the necromancer, but yes. We were told to ask the Wardlaw boys if they’ve seen him.”
“Oh cool, cool. I’ll ask my girl Mary, she knows everyone.” Hecaught Mary’s eye and waved her over. “Where can I find the Warden boys?”
“Wardlaw,” Zereh corrected.
Brayden nodded. “Yeah, them.”
The woman’s pinched face softened when she looked at the knight. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen them. Hey Dylan, have you seen the Wardlaw boys?”
A burly man stopped on his way past the group. “Who’s asking?” He wrapped a bandage over a nasty cut on his arm. The man had the muscles of a blacksmith and the scowl of a man who didn’t want to be bothered.
Brayden held out a hand. “The name’s Brayden. I’m the one who cleared out your little zombie problem.”
The blacksmith warily shook his hand. When they touched, a green spark of healing magic jumped from Brayden’s fingers, along the blacksmith’s arm, to the bandaged wound.
Brayden winked.
“Should’ve got here sooner,” Dylan grunted. “Wardlaw boys were taken by one of them big ‘uns. Not just him, neither. From what I can tell, there’s at least three people been taken.”
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“Well! Looks like we’re going after the necromancer after all, then.” Brayden eagerly rubbed his hands together. “I don’t suppose there’d be a reward for bringing them home?”
Darryl nodded slowly. “The town could put something together for you.”
“Only one problem,” said Emrys. “We don’t have any way to find the necromancer.”
“There must be a clue somewhere, some way to piece together where he’d have set up his base.” Zereh turned to Emrys. “Do you still have that rune Sven left behind?”
“Yes, but I don’t think–”
“Why don’t we just follow that guy?” Brayden interrupted.
At the edge of town, limping away, was what looked to be the last undead survivor.
“That…could work,” Zereh admitted.
“I saw him when the guys were carrying me through town. For my parade.” Brayden ginned. “I thought you’d be good at this game, but it’s my first day and I’m already doing better than you.”
Zereh’s smile was brittle. “It’s a good thing you’re here.”
Emrys felt the shift when Zereh added the paladin to their party. The man was stronger than anyone he’d ever met. He had effortlessly healed the blacksmith, and there was something about him that put all the villagers under his spell.
Emrys wasn’t immune to it, either. He could sense it at the back of his mind. Trust. Attraction. He wanted to trust Brayden, to help him.
If it wasn’t for the way he talked to Zereh, he would likely be as besotted with the paladin as Mary was.
But Zereh looked at Brayden with poorly masked fear in her eyes. If anyone else talked to her the way Brayden did, Zereh would beat them to a pulp, Emrys was sure. But with him, she laughed and went along with it.
He kicked the dirt. The undead creature was leading them into the woods, winding its way between the trees. Up ahead, Zereh laughed at something Brayden was saying and touched his arm.
On the other hand, it was entirely possible that Emrys was looking for something that wasn’t there, some reason to hate Brayden out of jealousy.
Not that he had any reason to be jealous.
But if he did, it would make a certain amount of sense. There was no other reason to dislike the paladin. He was a good man, and he’d saved Sonora from the undead almost single handedly. Not to mention, she might be better off teaming up with a fellow immortal than she was with him.
Emrys grimaced. There it was again. That feeling of trust and admiration. As the shadows deepened and the wind chilled, the paladin’s shining armor became a comforting sight. He would protect the group.
The shuffling undead moaned. The sound of it echoed eerily through the woods.
Emrys sped up to be closer to Brayden and Zereh.
“…and that’s what set me up to do so well as vice chair of dad’s company. People say, ‘oh he doesn’t have any experience’ or ‘that kid doesn’t belong in the boardroom,’ but I don’t listen to the haters, you know?” Brayden’s voice carried through the still air.
“Wow,” said Zereh. “That’s amazing.”
To Emrys’s ears the encouragement sounded flat, but Brayden preened at the praise.
“There’s only two things you need in order to do well, no matter where you go: charisma and power.” He stroked the pommel of his sword. “One or the other can get you pretty far, but both will take you all the way.”
“Hold on, shh.” Zereh held up a hand and stopped.
The undead’s shuffling gait slowed to a stop. It moaned and spun in a slow circle. The creature’s expression was frozen in the rictus of death, but Emrys thought he could see confusion in its eyes.
A man emerged from the shadows. Emrys blinked and for the first time noticed the large black tower tangled up in the trees, their branches pressed up against the walls like they didn’t realize it was in the way. The walls were impossibly black and completely smooth, ridged with white protrusions that looked like veins crawling up the tower.
The man wore a thick black cloak that obscured his features. It was embroidered with white veins that matched the look of the tower. He reached a comforting hand out to the undead.
The necromancer.
Emrys took half a step forward. Zereh threw out an arm to hold him back.
She was too late. The arcanist’s foot fell heavy on dried leaves, and the crackle was enough for the necromancer to look in their direction. His face was shadowed by the hood of his cloak, but white teeth gleamed in the moonlight when he smiled.
“So, the farmers have finally sent someone against me. I wondered what it would take.”
Brayden stepped forward with his sword held high. “I will vanquish you here, villain! Duel me here and we will end this now.” The knight winked at Zereh.
The necromancer laughed. “You are far, far too late, hero. You come to me now, when I am so close to my goals and think you can stop me? You think you can distract me from completing my master work?”
“Tell me your plan then, fiend. What do you plan to do with the kidnapped villagers?”
The necromancer stroked the undead’s skull. Dark purple sparks left trails on the creature’s skin, sinking into the bone.
“I’m trapped!” Brayden’s voice was strained with panic. His hands pressed against an invisible wall. “Zereh, kill him before he finishes this!”
But Emrys and Zereh were struck with the same sort of immobility, each unable to step outside of a two foot square. Emrys reached for his magic, but for the first time in his life he felt completely cut off.
Zereh was the only one unfazed. “It’s like a cut scene, just ride it out.”
“The most powerful force in this world is life,” said the necromancer. His voice was unnaturally deep and gravelly. “And the only way to harness it is through death. Tonight I will enact my greatest work by sacrificing five lives – five deserving lives. I have been preparing for this too long to let you stop me.” He ran his finger down the jaw of the undead, down its neck and chest. He rested his palm against the creature’s chest and closed his eyes. Magic spread into the undead’s heart and flowed across the limbs until the entire body was coated in that deep purple glow.
The creature moaned. Every inch of it was enlarging. The bone white of its bare skull, the strips of flesh across its face.
The necromancer watched with growing pride as the undead grew to three times its original size.
“This should keep you busy until I finish my ritual.” He spun on his heel and slipped back into the tower.
Brayden shook out his arms and legs. “Whoo! That was trippy.”
Zereh laughed. “You get used to it.”