The misadventures of the necromancer

She looks around, thinking how the grove around her looks completely different during the day. The light lets her see more and therefore imagine less.

And of course, the fact that she’s now surrounded by familiar people helps a great deal to ease the fears lingering from the previous night.

Even so, she never would have imagined she would return here so soon. Not to the forest—since the village lies in the middle of it, everyone has to walk through it, at least to gather firewood. No, she means returning to this very place.

The place where she had encountered the unknown monster, referred to as an Old Hag, and the young mage who was hunting it, last night.

The reason she had to come back here is simple—or at least, now that she’s had time to calm down and digest the explanations she’s been given over and over again.

Her fellow villagers don’t believe what she told them when she returned.

Or, as her grandmother said, they don’t want to believe. After all, her news is not merely about the appearance of a strange monster. No, it also involves the fact that the Towers are actually ancient ruins called the Twin Peaks.

That in itself wouldn’t be too problematic. The idea that the strange constructions might be ruins was perfectly acceptable. When she first revealed that part, several people just nodded in agreement, as if it were to be expected.

No, the real problem was what came after: the fact that the Twin Peaks are about to—or may have already begun to—release monsters that will pour out and ravage the surrounding lands.

And that should leave their village with only two choices: flee to avoid the oncoming wave of monsters, or gather people to try and kill the monsters before they escape the ruins.

Unfortunately, many villagers chose another option—not to believe her.

Even though she feels offended that so many suspect her in this way, she understands, in part, why they do.

Her news might herald the end of the village. If they flee—which still seems like the best option—they risk losing everything generations have built. Their fields and homes would be swallowed by the forest, and they’d have to submit to others for protection in unfamiliar lands. Unlikely to even be able to remain altogether.

And she has to admit, everything that happened to her last night did sound like madness.

They hadn't been here with her. They didn’t talk to the strange mage or see him conjure monsters from nothing. And that’s not even counting the fact that she hadn’t told them he had created skeletons—something she is now glad she kept to herself. Adding necromancy to the story would certainly not have improved her credibility.

The only thing helping her is her reputation as a serious girl, a trustworthy person, along with some villagers saying they had seen strange lights in the woods—something she immediately recognized as the boy’s light spell.

And so, after much discussion, they agreed the best thing was to come here and see if they could find proof of her encounter—or better yet, the young mage himself.

Thus, the area of the forest where Berta suspects she left the mage fighting the Old Hag is now full of people searching for signs. Though it seems to her most are here out of curiosity, rather than being of much use. Still, more eyes can’t hurt.

“Are you sure it’s here?” asks Geralt, the village leader, standing beside her. The man still holds a strong, energetic posture and gaze, despite his beard now filled with white hair.

His question is gentle, but she feels he doesn’t truly believe her story. Still, he is one of the few who is at least trying to clarify things with her, even if only to humor her before dismissing the matter.

Before she can answer, a shout rings out: “Geralt! Geralt!”

Turning, they see—interestingly—Wonter, of all people, running toward them excitedly. He waves his arms, calling, “Come, come!”

Everyone nearby does as he asks. She, in turn, feels hopeful that he might have found something that could validate her testimony. But even in these circumstances, she can’t help but feel a twinge of dissatisfaction at seeing her former fiancé.

Something that apparently no one in the village knows. With such grave news at hand, she hasn’t revealed Wonter and Sina’s betrayal—and apparently, neither had they.

Even so, the wretch seems to avoid looking directly at her, which only confuses her more about how to feel. Should she be glad, in some twisted way, that he knows what he did? Or furious…?

But when they reach the spot Wonter found, all such thoughts vanish.

They arrive at an area full of burnt trees, where even the ground is showing signs of fire.

“There was a fire here!?” someone exclaims—not that she bothers to see who.

“Was that what caused the lights people saw?” asks another, in a way that chips further at her credibility.

“Out of the way,” orders Ambrose’s confident voice to someone blocking his path. The tall, lean man, with short white hair and a bristly beard, scans the ground around him.

“What is it, Ambrose?” asks Geralt, intrigued by the old hunter’s reaction.

Ambrose ignores him, kneeling to examine the ground more closely, his expression somewhat puzzled. For a moment, he studies something nearby, then shifts his attention farther out.

Finally, he turns to Berta and asks, “Berta, do you recognize anything here?”

She feels the answer is yes and nods, confirming: “Yes. I think this is where I left them.”

Ambrose nods too, signaling he’s listening—and apparently agreeing.

“Ambrose??” Geralt presses, confused.

“There are strange tracks here that suggest some kind of fight. At least three…” Ambrose explains, rising and pointing at some prints on the ground. She can see them, but cannot interpret them as the seasoned hunter can.

Still, she can easily imagine what he has deduced—the fight between the two skeletons and the Old Hag, perhaps with some intervention from the young mage. Though he had seemed more interested in watching how his skeletons fared than joining in himself.

“Strange?” Geralt seizes on the potentially most important and troubling word.

“Yes, strange. Most seem human, but the movements don’t match what they should. While some of the prints are incredibly light—like those of children, but the sizes are wrong…” Ambrose continues, still shaking his head in confusion.

“Some tracks even make me think they were left by something like bones…” he adds at last. A comment that chills her, so close to the truth it comes.

The problem is that she increasingly suspects she should not reveal that the mage had summoned skeletons. Even if she tried to explain how he insisted the spell was not necromancy but conjuration… well, she herself hadn’t been entirely convinced. No one else would be either.

“Well, Berta said the mage had created strange creatures to fight for him,” says a voice behind her, which she immediately recognizes as her father’s. The relief she feels at his support is indescribable.

“Even so, why would they have started a fire here?” asks Wonter—instantly undoing her relief, both with the question and by the mere sound of his voice.

“Fireball. And a particularly powerful one at that,” Ambrose announces—to everyone’s astonishment.

When they all, including her, turn to him, the hunter continues his explanation:

“You can see it on the ground…”

He points to a spot in the center. “It hit there and exploded. You can see how the ground sank slightly, and the earth there looks scorched, the hottest.”

Pointing toward the edge of the burn zone, near some trees, he adds: “It must have reached there, because although the trees are singed, they’re not too badly burned.”

“From what I see, I’d say the fireball came from that direction. And followed this path.” He traces its trajectory with his arm.

Down that path, a few boys rush off into the woods.

She, meanwhile, turns to the villagers around her, trying to make herself heard:

“You see? This confirms what I said…”

Only for someone to answer: “You didn’t say anything about fireballs.”

Leaving her speechless. For a moment, she even thinks they might be worse than the mage at twisting her words.

But then, voices call out—it’s the boys who had gone ahead into the forest.

So they all follow, giving time to Ambrose to look at a new area of ground and comment, "A mule!?" But soon they reach the boy's discovery.

On the ground lies a charred body, completely unrecognizable. Geralt kneels, studying it, then finally declares tensely:

“Four fingers.”

One of the features she had described about the Old Hag. She approaches, carefully examining the creature’s hands. Sure enough, only four long fingers on each. She also notices its chest hasn’t been opened—which means the young mage hadn’t managed to take its heart.

“And what about this?” Ambrose suddenly asks.

“Maybe the mage Berta met has planned all of this. It could be nothing, just some sort of trick. How far can we trust a stranger who vanished into thin air?” asks Theo, Wonter’s father. Not a bad man, but one she knows is deeply afraid of what’s happening and what it will mean for all.

“Berta, you said he was young?” Geralt asks. She simply nods in response.

Geralt casts a heavy look at Ambrose before declaring loudly enough for all to hear:

“Theo, if the mage were old, maybe. I could almost believe your theory. But a young one…”

Theo opens his mouth to reply, but Ambrose interrupts instead.

“A mage is difficult and costly to raise. They often have to drink incredibly expensive potions and train for many years.

For someone to be capable of casting such a fireball… it would take years and absurd amounts of money. So, if the mage is young, he must have powerful, wealthy connections.”

She can’t help thinking that the boy had looked anything but extremely wealthy. In fact, she had seen some of her neighbors better dressed than him.

“Everything in our village, including all of us, wouldn’t amount to even a year of such expenses,” Geralt tells them.

“So, why would someone like that care about our village?” he asks the group, shaking his head before adding:

“The fact he didn’t even bother to stay—only convinces me further of what Berta described.”

His words are followed by silence, as the villagers struggle to grasp what they’re facing.

The silence only breaks when Berta summons the courage to declare:

“I think we need to decide what to do.”

While this was happening, Seres yawned, exhausted from the sleepless night they’d had. Walked along following Nero.

First, there had been the bizarre creature that looked like an old woman, which had appeared near their camp just as they were about to sleep. Only the strangely confrontational behavior of the undead mule had alerted them to the creature’s presence and the potential danger it posed.

In the end, Nero had realized the true nature of the being and used his new spell to summon a skeleton to fight it. And well, that had been fantastic to see…

Unfortunately, the skeleton had let the monster escape. So, Nero had ordered it to pursue, and in the end, he himself had gone off in search of the creature.

That had led Seres, Adar, and the mule to spend the night wandering, trying to find him.

Eventually, in the middle of the night, they spotted lights in the forest. Guessing the necromancer was the cause, they headed in that direction.

At last, they had found Nero again—using a skeleton to fight the fire he must have caused with his fireball. And he had looked thoroughly displeased about something.

When he noticed their approach, he began explaining that the creature—the Old Hag, as he called it—had proven far more troublesome than he had expected. And he’d had to finish it off with one of his fireballs.

After that, he revealed to them that the ruin from which the creature had come might have started releasing monsters. So, it would be best if they got out of there. Which, of course, they had done immediately.

And now, after a night of restless walking, here they were—prompting Seres to ask:

“Nero, with the mule protecting us, do we really need to hurry this much?”

The necromancer, walking ahead, didn’t even bother turning to face Seres. He simply answered in a weary voice:

“Assuming you’re safe is a good way to die…” he snapped, pausing for a few seconds before continuing:

“Besides, I’m worried that if we stay here too long, I’ll get dragged into a mess it’s safer to avoid.”

With that said, Nero seemed to find new energy, quickening his pace and forcing them to keep up.

When Seres turned to Adar at his side, he merely shrugged, as if to say, What did you expect?

And so they continued on their way—wherever it was that Nero intended to go.

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