The misadventures of the necromancer

His mouth is dry, and a few drops of sweat run down his forehead as he turns to look behind him. It is difficult to keep himself from breaking into a run, and only the fact that he cannot see the mage allows him to keep moving normally.

But he knows this is not the moment to dash away, drawing attention and making it easier for the mage to pursue him. The best thing he can do now is remain discreet and disappear into the crowd, moving through the street.

Right now, more people means safety. Normally, if he wanted to disappear, he would only need to activate the power of his ring. But the mage had made it very clear that this would not be an option.

Yet it is not only fear of the mage that drives him now. It is also anger, and more than a little disgust with himself.

He had left Grima behind.

Even understanding that the mage had clearly been ready for them, the image of him holding Grima, who had fallen to his knees, before slamming his head against the wall beside them, refuses to leave his mind.

Even his brother had told him to run. And even now, it is clear that this is their best alternative. Separating, it should allow at least one of them to escape unharmed. And as they had learned in their youth while dealing with the gangs of the city where they grew up, that is very important.

It reminds him of a time when they had been caught stealing from a merchant protected by a gang. That time, Avast had been the one captured while Grima escaped. Avast had been beaten unconscious. And if Grima had not been able to help him while he recovered, Avast would have starved to death.

But this time they hadn’t been caught stealing a bit of meat. They had tried to kill a mage—one far more capable than they had imagined.

So the possibility that Grima is already dead while the mage hunts him down to finish what he started in that alley is very real. The thought makes him want to scream in rage and despair.

Instead, he turns back once again to confirm that the mage is nowhere in sight. Of course, considering the spell he used in the alley, that might mean nothing.

The mage might be pursuing him completely invisible.

The thought makes him feel watched. What he hopes is that it is only his imagination. Though perhaps that is Grima’s only chance to escape.

Maybe the mage came after him, leaving Grima merely unconscious in that alley.

For now, his best chance is to find a dense enough crowd where he can disappear—somewhere an invisible pursuer cannot easily slip through.

Unfortunately, this is a bad time of day for that. Most people are returning home or already inside preparing dinner. The commercial streets where he is now are relatively empty.

Still, he eventually finds a group of people close enough together to make him feel a bit safer. It allows the frantic pounding of his heart to calm somewhat. He stays there for a while before separating from them and heading toward the inn where they were staying in Pinetop.

Instead of entering the inn itself, he goes behind the stables. It is a somewhat private place and rarely used, from what they had noticed. It is also where they hid a box with some silver coins for emergencies.

He quickly checks the box, only to find—much to his disappointment—that it is exactly as they had left it at the start of the day. Not a coin more or less, and no sign that it had been touched.

So Grima had not come here first.

The frustration is such that he punches the wooden wall, muttering, “Damn it!”

For a moment, he considers taking the money and hiring some thugs to deal with the mage. But remembering the fight they had arranged to test the mage. While realizing that it had probably been what alerted him to them, that idea quickly loses its appeal.

Besides, if someone like Fendat had contacted them to handle the mage, then such an option probably wouldn’t work anyway.

A solid conclusion that makes him punch the wall once again.

So he sees only one solution: leave and hope Grima can follow him later.

He takes a few coins from the box, leaving most of them for his companion. Then, with his knife, he carves two triangles on the inside of the box lid—a sign Grima will recognize as Avast’s decision and destination.

“Damn it… I’ll have to run back home!” he mutters, considering that he should go inside the inn and wait for his friend for a while more.

“Too bad!!! I was hoping you’d take me somewhere interesting,” a bored voice suddenly says behind him.

When he turns—almost purely on instinct—the only thing he sees is a fist with a ring coming toward his face, before the world disappears into darkness.

The pain spreading from his jaw is the first thing he feels when the light returns as he opens his eyes again.

Around him, rays of light slip through cracks in the wooden walls and the spaces around a door on the opposite side. Allowing him to make out a little about where he is.

He seems to be half leaning against a wall, half lying on the floor beside it. When he tries to move, the difficulty of moving his arms and legs makes him realize that he is bound by ropes.

For a moment, it is hard to think. He simply breathes in the moldy air while trying to understand what is happening.

But quickly, his memories lead him to the only possible answer.

The mage had caught him.

While he had believed he escaped, the other must have followed him calmly. Possibly hoping to eventually learn more about them. At least that’s what the comment before knocking him out suggests.

Even without knowing if it’s realistic, he tries to think of a way to escape. He studies the environment around him, determining that he is in an abandoned room, judging by the amount of dust and dirt he sees everywhere.

Only when he manages to sit properly against the wall does he notice another shape beside him.

Another person was lying on the floor against the wall, their head pointing in the opposite direction from his.

“Grima!!” he exclaims, realizing there is only one person who would be imprisoned with him.

Struggling to get closer to his friend without making too much noise that might alert their captor, he crawls toward the figure.

Calling out as loudly as he dares, “Grima!! Grima!!”

As he approaches, hope grows that Grima is alright. But also panic at the lack of response.

After what feels like an eternity to cross the short distance, he lies down in front of the figure and says in relief:

“Thank the gods!!”

It really is his friend. Even with the dim light, he can see that Grima is still breathing.

Unfortunately, even after kicking him several times to try to wake him, nothing happens. Looking more closely, he notices some blood on his friend’s forehead.

“The bastard hit you good!” he concludes angrily.

But he is not foolish enough to despair now.

Right now, his priority must be to free himself. After that, he will grab Grima, and the two of them will disappear from this city as quickly as possible.

So he tries—twisting and contorting himself in every way he can to loosen the ropes. He even manages to stand up, hoping the position will help.

And to his delight, he begins to feel some slack in the ropes binding his arms. Convincing him that he only needs a little time.

In his excitement, he turns to Grima, still lying on the floor.

“Hang on, brother. We’re still getting out of this!”

That is when he hears what sounds like voices approaching.

He looks toward the door and thinks:

So close!!!

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