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THE TWIN CITIES
THESE FUCKING NECROMANCERS…

THESE FUCKING NECROMANCERS…

Knight Captain Lowe sat behind the desk at the edge of the octagonal shaped room, barely feeling the cool breeze as the black curtains fluttered in and out of the shattered windows.

“Tell me,” he said.

“I can’t.”

Lowe said, “You will.”

The Necrolord stood at the center of the room, the hem of his black cloak swaying as he eyed the men near the walls surrounding the center of the room. If the necromancer made so much as to begin uttering a curse, he would be dead before the words left his mouth.

Does he prefer that?

Lowe glanced at the hilt of his sword. The blade was sheathed, held in his left hand, his arm resting across the chair he sat in. It’s smooth, rune-etched gleam would not remain unseen if his interrogation continued down this same path much longer.

Lowe looked into the necromancer’s eyes, saw that his gaze had covered the sword as well. Then they stayed like that, watching each other, unblinking for a few more seconds. “My patience wears thin, necromancer.”

“You’ll kill me if I—“

Lowe bent forward, slammed his sword across the desk. “Tell me—godsdamn you!”

The necromancer jerked in what must have been surprise and took a step back. He glanced about, evidentially remembering that he was completely cornered and brought his gaze back to Lowe. “He’s…”

“Yes?”

“He’ll kill me. You know that.”

“I’ll kill you,” Lowe said, barely keeping himself from snarling. Gods, he hated necromancers. “Tell me.”

When the necromancer paused, Lowe ran out of patience and slid his body over the smooth, paper-strew desk, catching his feet deftly as he unsheathed his sword with a crisp metallic his. The edge of the tapering blade made a shrill noise as it passed through the air, coming to rest near the Necrolord’s exposed neck.

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The man flinched.

After recovering, he bared his teeth. “The Lord Summoner is meeting Hurg representatives at Blackwater Summit in three days’ time.”

Why would the Hurg meet with the leader of the Necrophiliad? Lowe narrowed his eyes. “Go on.”

“That is all I’m going to tell you, Knight!”

Lowe clenched his jaw. “Then by the power granted me by the Order of the Purging Flame, and by the Gods, I—the necromancer’s eyes widened with shock—“sentence you to death.”

The necromancer jumped away from Lowe, began to utter a curse, but before the filth could finish his words, the Knight Captain had already lunged forward, swiped the blade through the necromancer’s neck with a strong flick of his wrists.

The Necrolord’s eyes widened in a split second of recognition before his vision must have cut to black. His severed head squirted in a spiraling arc as it rolled across the painted floor containing the nine-pointed star. Cuwin didn’t even wait for it to stop before he came forward from the wall. “What could the Lord Summoner have planned that would involve the Hurgamon Empire?”

There was urgency in his tone, the same urgency Lowe felt. I don’t know,” Lowe said, glancing out the window where dark clouds roiled forward, a distant echo of thunder cracking. “But we must discover what is afoot. We make for Blackwater Summit with all haste.”

Cuwin, clad in his heavy leather cloak, nodded as he pushed the heavy folds to his sides and clasped both hands behind his back. Looking thoughtful, he led the way onto the lift that would take the men to the base of the tower where the rest of the company waited. Beneath his cloak, the man’s yellow raiment showed beneath with its open hand styled in black and wreathed in bursting flames—a symbol of his station.

The other men piled onto the lift without uttering a single word. Lowe said, “What is it?”

Cuwin glanced toward him as the lift began to descend. “I was just thinking, if the Lord Summoner is meeting Hurg leaders on neutral ground, then I would suggest that whatever they have planned to discuss, is not already in the interest of two allies, but rather something else.”

Indeed.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know,” Cuwin said, still looking thoughtful as he brought a hand to stroke his chin. “But it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Then let us pray that the gods see fit to allow us swift victory, my friend.”

The lift continued to descend as the distant sounds of magic explosions and swords echoed intermittently from outside the keep.

This battle was over.

Now on to the next, Lowe thought.

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