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The Necromancer's End [Stubbed]
1. We got ourselves a mage!

1. We got ourselves a mage!

Jeremiah gazed into a dark tunnel and imagined how it would feel to descend the slick steps into its depths. He could feel the air growing cooler and damper, wrapping him in the fertile scent of earth, his torch revealing stairs one by one as he crept toward the first landing of the dungeon. The very thought made the hairs on his arm stand up. Pain, terror, and even death could be lurking just past the twilight of the torch’s influence.

He had explored several of the dungeon’s tunnels already and had mapped as much as he could, but Jeremiah had not actually entered the dungeon at all. He had sent others to do the exploring for him, learning all that he could from each foray before his servants met their grisly ends. But he never spared any of them a single thought, never shed a tear, never contemplated their passing. For Jeremiah was a necromancer, and his servants had long since left their suffering behind.

It was a warm day, despite remnants of snow still clinging to shaded hollows underneath trees. Jeremiah had abandoned his heavy traveling cloak as the sun climbed. He leaned back on his rock and stretched, enjoying the afternoon rays on his face. The solitude of the clearing was picturesque—and he didn’t have to worry about hiding his magic when he was alone.

Well, almost alone. Jeremiah turned to a fat gray toad sitting on a rock beside him. “Okay Gus, whatever is down there has defenses of some kind. They’re all getting killed at the same spot.” He peered into his bag of dead rats, waving off the spring flies. He was running low. “I could try to find some larger animals to send down there. Or see if there’s a graveyard nearby. What do you think?”

Gus, Jeremiah’s familiar, didn’t respond. He only lifted his head. Jeremiah obliged him by stroking his chin.

Jeremiah scanned the clearing. It was sizable, meant to accommodate the structure that had long since deteriorated to a few scattered flagstones. The reinforced door of the dungeon itself was set in the clearing’s center like a cellar hatch. The forest encroached on all sides, the trees just beginning to bud with new growth.

He recalled the words of his old master: “Necromancy in practice is resource management. Do the absolute most with the absolute least.” What resources did he have? A dwindling bag of dead rats, good for scouts and little else. The forest itself, filled with game that was out of reach, given Jeremiah’s lackluster hunting ability. And his secret weapon, carefully packed away in his backpack. “Not yet. I still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

Jeremiah perked up at the crunch of underbrush. He leapt to his feet and unsheathed a dagger. The clearing was still. His hearing and vision sharpened, and he became aware of the silence that surrounded him. If he were lucky, it might be an animal he could kill and use. If he were unlucky, it could be any of the countless things in the world that would eat him alive.

A minute passed and Jeremiah’s worry grew. An animal would have moved by now. Whatever was out there was holding still because he was looking for it, and that realization made him tremble.

“Who’s there?” Jeremiah shouted into the obfuscating greenery. “I warn you, I’m a mage! I just want to be left alone!”

The silence was oppressive. His eyes darted around, looking for an ambush. It felt like the trees were moving closer, every twitching leaf a potential attack. The icy claw of terror began to grip his heart.

A voice from the trees. “Stop panicking and look exactly where I tell you.”

Jeremiah froze, his muscles so tight they hurt. He awaited further instruction, even while part of him felt shame at his obedience.

The voice spoke again. “Look a little to the right of where you’re looking now…higher, a little more…stop! Now to the right. I’m going to move. Remember, do not panic.”

Jeremiah was now staring into the dark upper reaches of a nearby tree. He saw nothing at first. Then a slow wave of motion revealed a figure aiming a bow at him.

“Don’t panic!” the figure said. “I’m not going to hurt you if you just stand there and relax. But I promise, and listen now, I promise I will kill you if you do something stupid. You understand?”

Jeremiah tried to quell his fear by reminding himself that if the archer wanted him dead, he’d already be dead. It didn’t work.

“Tell me you understand or I’m going to shoot you through the leg.”

“Yes!” said Jeremiah. “Yes, I understand! I’m not going to do anything.”

“Two people are about to step out of the woods. They’re my friends. Either of them could kill you as soon as look at you, so don’t. You. Move.

A woman’s voice said, “For fuck’s sake Bruno, he’s got the idea.”

The archer, Bruno, shouted back. “He said he was a mage! You want to take chances, be my guest, but don’t expect any sympathy when your skin gets melted.”

Jeremiah caught a glimmer of steel amidst the trees, then a woman entered the clearing. She was tall and clad in full armor. In a moment, she crossed the distance to Jeremiah, twisted the dagger from his grip, and replaced the weapon with a firm handshake, smiling all the while. Her other hand gripped his shoulder. “Allison Allday, pleased to meet you.”

“Jeremiah Thorn,” said Jeremiah on reflex. She had disarmed him, introduced herself, and placed him in a controlling hold in the blink of an eye. Oh dear, he thought, this woman is obscenely dangerous.

A second woman appeared by Allison’s side. Whereas Allison’s very presence demanded attention, this woman seemed to disappear among the vials, jars, and pouches that adorned her, as if she were more shelf than person. Jeremiah spotted a slightly pointed ear under her hair—a half-elf? She extended a hand. “Delilah Fortune.”

Allison transferred Jeremiah’s hand to Delilah’s and stepped to his side. Her grip on his shoulder never slackened.

“Sorry for the theatrics,” Allison said, nearly in his ear. “Bruno didn’t think much of you till you said you were a mage. Can’t be too careful where mages are concerned, can we?” She emphasized her point with a squeeze of his shoulder.

“No, no,” said Jeremiah turning his head to smile awkwardly at her. “I’m just glad you’re not thieves.”

Delilah’s smile warmed, inching closer to genuine. She gave Allison’s hand two quick taps, and the vice-like grip loosened. “Can I ask what brings you out here?”

Jeremiah looked back and forth between the two women. The tension and air of threat from Allison had diminished, though her hand still rested on his shoulder. “To be honest, I…” Jeremiah trailed off. If he told them about the dungeon, they might want whatever treasure was within for themselves. But then, if they were out this far, they were likely here for that very reason. “I heard there was an unexplored dungeon and came to make a go of it.”

Allison finally released his shoulder and clapped him on the back. “Attaboy! That’s why we’re here too. Good on you for not trying to lie about it.”

Jeremiah was stunned by her directness and struggled to find a response. He was saved by Bruno’s arrival.

Everything about Bruno spoke of a hard, cutthroat life. His eyes were suspicious and cold, his bare arms covered in tattoos ranging from artistic to vulgar, and he moved with a tension like he was ready to sprint away at any moment. He stopped at a distance that would make a handshake awkward and instead nodded a greeting. “Bruno of Dock Road Two.”

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Jeremiah cocked a brow at the surname. Bruno gave him a look that said, your assumptions are right, and you’re not smart for figuring it out.

Bruno crossed his arms. “So! We have a problem. You’re here for the dungeon, and so are we. How are we going to handle this, young man?”

Before Jeremiah could answer, Allison said, “No problem at all! We’d be foolish not to ask a mage to join us, wouldn’t we?”

Delilah gave Jeremiah a studious look, then nodded. Bruno sighed, but also gave a curt jerk of his chin.

Delilah began to speak quickly. “Jeremiah Thorn, will you join our party for this endeavor? We operate on an equal shares basis, with one share awarded to party treasury.”

Jeremiah opened his mouth to speak, but Delilah continued.

“Upon the endeavor’s completion, one quarter of the party treasury will be additionally awarded to you if we go our separate ways. Any member may purchase a found item from the party at its market cost, the amount paid to be divided among other party members. A caveat pertains to items which specifically and uniquely benefit one member, at the sole discretion of the party. Agreed?”

They all stared at Jeremiah.

“Umm…” Jeremiah tried to remember everything she had said, then thought about what they might decide to do to him if they thought he was competition. “Okay, that sounds fair.”

Allison whooped. “Hell yeah! We got ourselves a mage! Alright, campsite. Tents up everyone! Bruno, give us a three-sixty scout. Delilah, get a trap on that dungeon entrance. Jay, get a fire going.”

Allison’s voice had such innate authority that Jeremiah barely noticed the shortening of his name. Coming from her, it sounded like it had always been his nickname.

Jeremiah watched them go. He turned to his familiar, who hadn’t moved an inch in all the commotion. “This is bad, Gus,” he said, bending to scoop up the toad. “It’s good, yes. But it’s very, very bad.”

It was near dark by the time the campsite had been set up. Jeremiah busied himself with the fire as he tried to surreptitiously learn about his new companions.

Delilah poured a vial of thick amber liquid down the dungeon steps, which had spread to leave a barely perceptible sheen. The handful of glass beads she scattered onto the stairs stuck immediately, as if they had been tossed into syrup. The layers of her robes clearly hid plenty of fascinating admixtures, but Jeremiah’s eyes kept being drawn to the formidable longspear piled with her gear.

Bruno had disappeared into the forest to scout the perimeter. Jeremiah knew he wouldn’t be spotted again until he decided to be.

Allison, for her part, had erected the tents with what Jeremiah could only describe as military efficiency. She used the rest of the time to inspect her equipment. The plate armor took most of her attention, but she also performed basic upkeep on her longsword, steel shield, and battleaxe. Jeremiah couldn’t help but notice that these tasks were routine enough to allow her to maintain a watchful eye on him.

The group gathered around the fire just as Jeremiah finished building it. “We’re clear,” said Bruno, tossing his shortbow aside. He unhooked the pair of shortswords from his belt and carefully lay them to either side of his sleeping bag. “Our escape route is east. If east is cutoff, we go north.”

Delilah rolled her eyes as she shed layer after layer of stiff leather strips. “What if they come at us from all directions?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“We say that you’re a princess and offer you as a hostage,” Bruno said, without a hint of humor.

“What? I can’t be the princess?” Allison said.

“I’ve never seen a princess with calluses like yours, so no,” Bruno said. He still sounded completely serious.

“I think Bruno should be the princess,” said Delilah. “He’s daintier than either of us.”

Jeremiah chewed his own day’s ration slowly as he listened to their effortless banter. He felt more isolated in the presence of their camaraderie than he did when he was alone. He recognized the urge to try and participate in their friendly jesting, and quashed it. I’ll join them for the dungeon, earn whatever treasure I can, and then get as far away as possible. He knew from experience just how friendly they would be if he let slip that he was a necromancer.

“Jay, tell us what you know about the dungeon so far,” said Allison, startling Jeremiah back to the present.

Jeremiah fished a single scrap of parchment from his bag. “It’s not great, but it gives you an idea of the layout.”

Allison’s face flickered with a hint of a frown as she looked at the map. Only a few lines were drawn, showing two dead ends and a third continuing into unknown. “Why only this far?” she asked.

Jeremiah had thought of only one good answer to this question. “I got scared.”

Bruno hung his head and laughed. “Oh, that’s adorable.”

“It’s smart.” Allison took a swig from her waterskin. “Fear is an instinct to be heeded. There’s no such thing as an ‘easy dungeon.’ Always be prepared to fight for your life. More than a few adventurers should have ‘They’re just kobolds’ written on their tombstones.”

Jeremiah nodded sagely, grateful that his timidity had been labeled as wisdom.

“What sort of magic do you practice?” asked Delilah.

Jeremiah’s pulse quickened as he prepared to lie again. “Conjuration, but I’m not very good yet.” Necromancy and Conjuration had similar effects at a low levels. Any mage worth their salt could perform a handful of simple universal spells, and this group looked competent enough that he hoped those would be all he needed.

“Is there anything else about your abilities we should know?” asked Allison. Jeremiah fought the urge to squirm under her penetrating gaze.

“Hmm…Oh! I forgot to introduce Gus.” Jeremiah pulled the toad from his robes and lifted him for the others to see. “This is Gus. As my familiar, he is magical, more intelligent than a normal toad, and very important to me. Please be careful around him.”

Bruno studied the creature as though memorizing its features, then locked eyes with Jeremiah and nodded once.

Delilah ‘s eyes lit up. She leaned close and inspected Gus with intense curiosity. “That’s a blue spined swamp toad! Mind if I take a venom sample? They’re so rare, I’d love to have a look at its properties.”

Jeremiah allowed himself to feel flattered by her excited bounce. This was the most interest anyone had ever shown in Gus. “Sure! Be careful though, being a familiar strengthens his venom’s potency.”

Delilah’s expression shifted to awe. “A dose of blue spine venom is already strong enough to paralyze three men!” With utmost care, she produced a metal loop and pressed down on Gus’s back, exposing a blue tinted spine. She coaxed several drops of a clear, viscous liquid into a glass vial. She swirled the vial and peered at it in the firelight. Then she thanked Gus with a stroke under the chin.

Jeremiah withdrew into his thoughts while the others chatted among themselves. He hoped the dungeon would yield enough wealth to get him a few nights at the local inn. It was safer in the wilderness, away from people, but he was becoming desperate for a real meal and bath.

Allison soon declared it was time to sleep. Jeremiah, wanting to be helpful, offered to take the first watch.

Bruno barked a terse laugh. “No offense, but I would rather take a full night’s watch myself than have us all asleep around a mage we just met.”

Jay couldn’t argue with that. Then he wondered whether he was being too trusting himself, but decided that if they wanted to kill him, it wouldn’t much matter if he were awake for it or not.

As he settled back into his sack, he allowed himself to feel a little excited. Tomorrow he’d be delving a dungeon alongside powerful adventurers. He had dreamed of this since he was a boy! What child didn’t? But he was also afraid, and not just of what dangers might be lurking underground. If they learned what he could do…

Jeremiah pushed the thought aside. All he had to do was not perform any necromancy. He’d make a few silver and be on his way to Barad Celegald. Or maybe River’s Run? Or even the great city of Dramir…on the wings of imagined riches, Jeremiah drifted to sleep.

The party prepared the next morning in near silence. Jeremiah suspected there was a graveness with which one should approach a dungeon delve. After stretching routines and a light breakfast, Allison and Bruno worked together to assemble her armor. Delilah layered herself in leather and fabric. Jeremiah donned a billowing black robe. It offered a modicum of protection, but its real purpose was to allow him to perform complex gestures, hide various components, and provide a safe place for Gus.

He hoisted his pack and felt the secret cargo inside shift. Allison paused in her armor assembly to address him. “Ask yourself right now—do I NEED what’s in this bag?”

“Yes,” said Jeremiah, with solid conviction.

Allison nodded. “Alright, I trust you.”

They gathered at the dungeon entrance and Delilah used the butt of her spear to break one of the glass beads. The stairs burst into a blazing white fire, so bright Jeremiah had to turn his head, the intense heat shocking him as much as the flash.

Allison slapped a leather cap onto Jeremiah’s head, buckling it in place. “Keep Bruno and me in front of you, Delilah behind you. I don’t know your magic, so I’m trusting you to act as you see best. Stay in formation unless I say otherwise. Warn us if you’re about to do something that could affect us. Focus on magic and keeping your eyes and ears open.” Then she wrapped her hand around the back of his head with a reassuring grip. She leaned forward and touched her forehead to his, holding his gaze. “I can tell you haven’t done this before,” she whispered. “We’ll protect you, but be safe. No heroics.”

Jeremiah swallowed at the intensity of her proximity, but he appreciated her words. He nodded and she released him.

Allison moved to the head of the party and turned to face them. Suddenly that dangerous woman from the day before was back. The sun broached the tops of the trees, washing his companions with a golden glow. They glanced back toward Jeremiah.

They look…heroic. Jeremiah took a deep breath, reminding himself of the helmet Allison had put on him to protect his skull. That thought sobered him up. He nodded to the three of them and drew his dagger.

“Good?” asked Allison.

“Good,” said Bruno and Delilah.

Jeremiah’s stomach swooped. “Good,” he managed.

“Let’s delve this dungeon,” Allison growled, and led them into the depths Jeremiah had only dreamed of.

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