Chapter Thirty-Four – Wanderer’s Bane I

The passageways were mostly empty, but whenever they ran into a necromanced the companions didn’t have too much trouble overpowering them. They might have reached the throne room faster if it weren’t for Tara.

“What are you doing now?” asked Horon impatiently.

Tara had made them all stop after killing three more necromanced, and was searching the dead unliving’s tattered rags.

“You never know what you’re going to pick up,” she explained. “See? Four silver coins.”

“Now we can retire,” suggested Wenrik humorously. “That farm is yours at last, Horon.”

“That’s not the only thing,” said Tara. “You can find lots of useful stuff when you’re looting your enemies. They might be carrying lockpicks, special weapons, some rare ingredients for potions. You just have to be willing to get down and dirty.”

“You have a lot of experience in this, do you?” grumbled Horon.

“Plenty,” said Tara. She held up a small knife triumphantly. “See? This is a special item. You can only use it once. It’s an enchanted knife called a ‘Crystal Needle.’”

“I’ve heard of those,” said Elita. “They’re enchanted by fair elves, aren’t they? I believe these weapons are even made of magic-sealed ice.”

Weapon Name

Type

Skill Requirement

Damage

Crystal Needle

Knife

Magic: 90

30

“These are worth a pretty penny too at the store,” said Tara, pocketing the knife. “Although even if I sold half a dozen, I still wouldn’t have enough to pay for Ikor the Skorge’s armor set.”

“There she goes again,” complained Horon. “Ikor the Skorge’s corpse is at the bottom of the ocean. The slaves we rescued disposed of him themselves.”

“Trust me,” said Tara. “If I show up one day in Ikor the Skorge’s armor, don’t be too surprised. There are a lot of benefits that come with being me.”

Horon snorted, but Tara could tell the Fenman was secretly impressed.

To be fair, it wasn’t only Tara who slowed their progress. Many of the captives were slow because of their weakened state. Tara could only imagine how long they had been prisoners of the necromancer. The strain of their captivity had affected both their bodies and minds, and several seemed confused by the very idea of escape and had to be guided by the others. Thankfully, Berga’s husband—who introduced himself as Millard—was sensible even if he was confused.

“You came all this way for my battle horn?” he asked as they climbed the hundreds of steps to Narion’s throne room. “You could have been killed!’

“It’s hard to explain,” said Tara through gritted teeth, concentrating on the climb, “but suffice it to say there’s more than your battle horn involved. People needed rescuing. We had to come.” She knew better than to say, I knew you were alive this whole time and I want to make friends with your wife by bringing you back to her in one piece. Tara knew from experience that revealing her cards too soon usually had a bad effect on the people around her.

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As they neared the entrance to the throne room, Tara held up her hand. Wenrik looked back at her, both questioning and impatient.

“What is it?”

“It’s very quiet,” said Tara. “We made it all the way here. Don’t you think we should have run into more necromanced by now?”

The prisoners murmured, glancing fearfully at each other.

Tara took a deep breath. “Okay. We’re going in. But before we do, I’ve got to debrief you guys on how to do this. Narion Nightsong is a pretty tough boss if you’re, you know, relatively new to this kind of thing.”

“I think we have enough experience between us,” said Wenrik with savage flare.

“You’re definitely more experienced than me in some ways,” said Tara, trying not to think of the stats that the Shieldmistress had shown her of everyone’s abilities and how evenly matched they actually were. “But my visions have given me a little more insight into Narion’s particular weaknesses.”

“I’m not sure I trust your visions, no offense,” said Horon.

“That’s valid,” agreed Tara. “A lot has been happening that I didn’t expect. But some things, the basic things are the same. So I know for a fact that Narion Nightsong has a strong weakness for light.”

One of the prisoners scoffed. “He’s a dark elf! His kind thrive in warmth and sun.”

“That’s usually true,” said Tara. “In this case, Narion has bound himself so closely to dark magic and isolation that his physical structure has begun to change. He’s spent years underground, away from any kind of living light or warmth. Frankly, I think it makes sense based on logic alone that Narion Nightsong is vulnerable to light and fire.”

“Those red pinecones you found,” said Elita eagerly. “Could we use them?”

“Yes!” Tara nodded. “That’s the exact idea. The pinecones could be a huge help...if we had them." Tara saw the gnome's face fall as she remembered that all their gear had been taken from them when they were captured. "But there’s another thing, too.”

“What else?” asked Horon, frowning.

“Narion has a one-shot attack that will kill you instantly,” Tara explained. “It’s called ‘False Sun,’ when he summons magic light to perform a wide-range power attack.”

Wenrik chuckled. “Wherever you come from, Hero, I’ve never heard anyone talk about combat like you. Don’t worry, Hero. I have several one-shot moves myself.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Tara insisted. “You can always tell Narion is about to use his power attack because he reaches up like this”—she stretched on her toes, arm extended as if reaching for the sky—“and you can see the light start to glow on his hand. You’ve only got a few seconds to get out of the way.”

Wenrik nodded. “Alright. What are we waiting for?”

Tara felt a surge of frustration. In a situation like this, the least the Borzerk warrior could do was try to take the upcoming battle seriously.

She certainly took it seriously when she pushed the door to the throne room wide open and saw what was waiting for them on the other side.

Narion Nightsong must have summoned all his necromanced to that one room. On either side of the path leading to the dark elf’s throne, necromanced were packed together, watching the companions with strangely luminous eyes.

There were far more than Tara knew she and her companions could handle. They could maybe take on half a dozen necromanced at a time, but there must have been hundreds here.

The necromanced didn’t seem interested in attacking the companions. They simply stood and watched them, while Narion Nightsong spoke from his throne.

“I’ve been expecting you, Hero of Allerion,” he said. “Come here.”

Tara didn’t see that she and her companions had any choice. They walked between the press of unliving bodies.

“I sensed something different about you,” said Narion. “I am impressed that you and your companions escaped my pit. But you will not leave this place alive. There is power in you that I yearn to understand.”

“There is nothing to understand, necromancer,” said Wenrik suddenly. “She is not like you, one who pursues darkness and destroys life. That is the source of her power.”

The dark elf’s mouth twitched. “Ah, you are a romantic,” he said. “And I see you know nothing about magic at all.” His piercing eyes turned to Tara. “I believe you are aware that I could have you and your companions slaughtered where you stand. As incredible as it is that you made it here from the Pit of Half Lives, you are no match for my army of necromanced. But I will give you a choice, Tara MacQueen.”

Tara’s grip on her sword shifted. “What choice?”

“There are two paths before you,” said the necromancer. “I offer you the chance to become my second in command, a leader in this world under worlds. Together, you and I will be an unstoppable force, and bring eternal life to all.”

Tara tried not to sound nervous. “And the second?”

“You will face me alone,” said Narion. “I want to test this power of yours. None of your companions will be allowed to stand beside you when we meet in combat. Only one of us will survive.”

“No!” protested Horon. “That’s outrageous.”

“You think it is outrageous because you see her with your limited sight,” replied the necromancer smoothly. He rose. “And you know that no common mortal is a match for me.”

Tara refused to look aside. “If I agree to this duel,” she said, “do I have your word that my friends will go free?”

Narion Nightsong didn’t even blink. “No,” he said. “If you fail, I will let my servants feed on their life essence. They might last for a few years before the end.”

Tara felt a surge of anger. This wasn’t how the boss fight with Narion was supposed to go. She was forced to wonder what the consequences of her defeat would be in a scenario that she had never faced before.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll fight you.”

“You can’t be serious,” protested Wenrik. “Tara, I know you have skill and are learning—but you’ve never fought an enemy like this before.”

“Have you?” pushed back Tara. “Have any of you? This is a chance for us to get out of here. Our only chance. I have to take it.” She turned back to the necromancer. “If I’m going to face you, I want to use the weapons I came here with.”

The necromancer was amused. “Of course. Everything will be returned to you. Not that it will help.”

There was movement among the necromanced as they passed the provisions the companions had brought through their ranks. Tara tried not to think of the fact that she was only Level 3 and about to face Narion Nightsong alone.