* * *
From that day on, Sam saw Timmy on a semi-regular basis. The boy was very good at sneaking around, and he’d become incredibly skilled at picking locks and disabling magical defences. However, he needed to be careful. If he were caught, Malcolm would probably kill him on the spot. It helped that the servants, many of whom were not at the castle by choice, had taken a liking to Timmy. Malcolm had also made a costly mistake. He had assumed that his treatment of Sam would make him lash out at anyone who came near him. The thought of Sam working with a human, never mind his apprentice, had never crossed Malcolm’s mind.
Timmy was always nursing some injury or another when he visited, but the injuries grew less severe over the years. He was learning not only how to avoid the worst of his master’s wrath but also how to withstand it when it became inevitable. A few of the servants knew about healing, and Timmy learned what he could from them while scouring the library for anything that could help him. Sam proved useful in that regard. There were indeed secret passages that bypassed much of Malcolm’s security. Sam taught Timmy as much as he could, given his position, and the boy took full advantage, sneaking books out of the library and evading his master whenever Malcolm fell into one of his foul moods.
Timmy also told Sam about what he was learning. Apart from necromancy, Timmy had earth magic, but he couldn’t use it properly. Malcolm had not been pleased, and he had made his displeasure known with the sharp end of a sword. Timmy, of course, had managed to survive, albeit not unscathed. He’d been forced to stagger back to his room and use some of the meagre healing supplies that he had managed to gather. More importantly, Timmy had begun to learn more about Sam and the others. Timmy played the fool, weathering his master’s rage and frustration, so Malcolm would not feel hesitant about dropping precious crumbs of information for him to follow. Sam could not help but admire his tenacity.
“Magic is a powerful thing,” Timmy said one evening. Malcolm had drunk himself into a stupor, so they didn’t have to worry about being discovered. “It can bind even creatures like you, but we still don’t truly understand how it does that. My master has started talking more. He thinks I’m an imbecile, so he doesn’t see the harm. To be honest, I don’t think he really knows how the magic he used on you works. The scholar he learned from didn’t want to teach him everything, so he killed him.” Timmy held up a roughly hewn key. “My master keeps the notes he took about the magic he used on you under lock and key, but he was careless. He always is when he drinks. The next time he leaves on a mission, I’ll take a closer look at those notes.” He smirked. “We’re getting closer, Sam.”
The next time he visited, Timmy had a surprise. He had some kind of food with him.
“This is cake,” Timmy said. “Chocolate cake. You have no idea how hard it was to get. My master has the cooks make cake, but he never lets me have any. It’s another way to make me suffer, but I finally found a way to get some without him noticing. Since we’re allies, I thought I’d share the spoils of my victory.”
He cut the piece of cake in half and pushed Sam’s share through the boundary. The magic Malcolm had used allowed him to strike at Sam from outside the barrier while preventing Sam from striking back. In this case, though, Sam was glad for it. The cake passed through the magic without any problems.
“Go ahead,” Timmy said. “Eat it but not all at once. You want to savour it. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get more.”
Sam ate the cake slowly. He was glad he did. It tasted fantastic. It was the best thing he’d ever eaten, even better than the strange, insect-like enemies he’d fought before coming to this dimension. It must have been obvious because Timmy laughed.
“I knew you’d like it.” Timmy chewed on his own cake before pausing and cutting what remained of it in half and pushing some more over to Sam. “One day, I’ll be in charge of this castle, Sam. You and I, we’ll have cake whenever we want some.”
Sam liked the sound of that.
* * *
Years passed, and Timmy grew stronger and wiser. He finally learned enough to set Sam free. No, that wasn’t quite right. Even with all of the effort Timmy had put into understanding the magic Malcolm had used to bind Sam, he still hadn’t worked out a way to undo his master’s magic. But he did learn something that was almost as good.
The magic Malcolm used was incredibly complex, and it had to be renewed every decade or so. Sam had tried to break free during the last renewal, but he hadn’t been strong enough. Thanks to Timmy’s research, it was no longer about strength. There would be a moment during the renewal ceremony – just one – where the magic was vulnerable. If Sam used his remaining power in exactly the right way, the magic Malcolm had used would backfire. Instead of binding him, it would cast him back into his own dimension. It would hurt – a lot – but Sam could then return to the castle from his home dimension, unbound and safe unless he was foolish enough to confront Malcolm again.
Timmy made sure to be nowhere near the Sam when Malcolm came to renew the binding magic to avoid being accused of treachery, but it didn’t take long for Sam to learn that Timmy had borne the brunt of Malcolm’s rage nonetheless. When Sam eventually drifted up through the floor of Timmy’s room, concealing his presence as best he could, the boy was on his bed, surrounded by healing supplies.
Sam signalled an apology with tentacle waving, colour changes, and shape alteration, but Timmy shook his head.
“I’ll be fine, and this isn’t your fault.” Timmy smiled and then winced. “You should have seen the look on his face earlier. He was so mad that you’d broken free. He was shouting and screaming, and then he got all quiet.” He laughed. “He was scared, Sam. The bastard was scared because he knows you’ll come for him. He knows that if he makes another mistake, he’s a dead man.”
Mouths opened up along Sam’s body, all of them filled with long, jagged teeth.
“I know. I’d like to kill him too, but we can’t, not yet. He has charms – a lot of charms – against your kind, and he’s wearing all of them. Even drunk, he could probably still kill me with his magic, and all of his zombies are instructed to attack and kill anything that gets near his chambers. For now, Sam, you’ll have to lay low.”
Sam bristled, but he could understand Timmy’s caution. Malcolm was a dangerous man. They could not afford to rush.
“I still have a lot to learn too.” Timmy smiled ruefully. “I want to keep this castle, Sam, but I’m not strong enough to fight off the people who’ll come for it once my master is dead. In a few more years, maybe, I’ll be strong enough. Until then, I have to keep learning.”
Sam’s tentacles twitched. He wanted to tear Malcolm limb from limb.
“You were patient for a long time, Sam. Be patient for a little bit longer.” Timmy downed a healing potion. From the colour of it, Sam could tell that it wasn’t of particularly good quality. It was probably something Timmy had thrown together himself. “In the meantime, you need to stay away from him. What we did, it won’t work a second time. But now that you’re free, you can teach me more about this place. There have to be more secret passages, and I’m sure there are hidden rooms full of old books and scrolls. I need to know everything about this castle, Sam. Everything.”
Sam bobbed up and down in agreement. Timmy had earned his help.
When Timmy left to attend an academy, supposedly to spy for his master, Sam was actually happy. Timmy was safer away from the castle, and Malcolm’s behaviour had grown more and more erratic. Some of Sam’s fellows had actually caught Malcolm trying to tamper with the magic that kept the Others restrained. If the fool had actually succeeded in damaging it, he would have ushered in the apocalypse. Luckily, Malcolm had been too drunk to achieve anything, and he’d stumbled off, muttering about revenge and cursing Sam and his kind.
When Timmy came back from the academy, things were different. He was older now, still a teenager, but no longer a boy. He was a man now, and they were almost ready to take on Malcolm. All they needed to do was
to wait for the right moment. Malcolm must have suspected something too because he was far warier of Timmy than he had been in the past. For the first time, he seemed to realise that Timmy was no longer that scruffy boy he’d taken in. He was a threat.
* * *
And then everything changed.
Timmy stumbled back into his room one night and summoned Sam. The moment the horror appeared, Timmy blurted the words that Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever hear. “He’s dead.”
Sam stared at Timmy with all forty-eight of his eyes. He’d felt something earlier, a shift in the castle’s magic, but the laboratories Malcolm used had defences to prevent Sam and his kind from entering. Malcolm had put those defences in place years ago after one of Sam’s fellows had tried to kill him. Sam asked Timmy how it had happened.
“He was drunk again,” Timmy explained with a dry chuckle. “And he was threatening to kill me when he was eaten by his own zombie python-goat.” He shook his head in disbelief. “It was bizarre. I could have helped him – he even asked me to – but he seemed so… surprised when I just stood there and watched.” He ran one hand over his face. “Oh, well. He was always going on and on about how people needed to put themselves first, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. If anything, he should have seen it coming.”
There was one thing that bothered Sam. It wasn’t unheard of for necromancers to have plans in place, in case they died. He wouldn’t put it past Malcolm to try to turn himself into some kind of zombie.
“We don’t have to worry about that,” Timmy said. “He is definitely dead. Believe me. Before I came here, I cut open the zombie python-goat. He was dead, all right, but just to be sure I burnt his body, dissolved the ashes in acid, and then boiled the acid away using sanctified fire.” He smirked. “Vicky taught me the runes and seals for sanctified fire. My master is as dead as anyone can possibly be. Even a Grand Necromancer couldn’t bring him back.”
Sam was still and silent. He was… mildly disappointed. He had wanted to kill Malcolm himself, but he wasn’t going to complain. Malcolm was still dead, and Sam was still free.
“So… what now?” Timmy asked quietly. “There’s going to be trouble. Once people find out that he’s gone, they’ll come for the castle. And the two of us only became allies to defeat him. Are we still allies, or am I going to have to fight you?” He paused. “I know I’m not perfect, but I’m not my master. I’m not going to enslave you or the others. As long as you follow some simple rules and don’t wake up the big guys, I’m sure we’ll get along fine.” He gave Sam a hopeful look. “And let’s not forget the cake. I am completely willing to buy your continued loyalty with copious amounts of cake.”
Sam thought the matter over. He could kill Timmy. At this range, without the proper rituals and magic to fight him off, it wouldn’t be hard.
“Come on,” Timmy said, getting to his feet. “We need to celebrate. We’ll go down to the kitchens and get something to eat. I know you like cake, but have you had roast chicken before? I’m sure you’ll like it. But you’ll have to let me go first. I don’t know how many of the cooks have seen you before.”
Sam was done thinking. Timmy was not Malcolm, and he was not one of the Others. He followed Timmy into the kitchen. The new ruler of Black Tower Castle was right. Roast chicken was delicious, but cake was still better.
* * *
“Seriously?”
Sam was brought back to the present as he caught his third fish and added it to the pair Old Man had already reeled in. Timmy, meanwhile, had only managed to catch a single fish, which was so scrawny they’d been forced to throw it back.
“You have to be cheating,” Timmy grumbled. “There is no way you’re actually this good at fishing.”
Sam gave the equivalent of a shrug and informed Timmy that it wasn’t so much a matter of him being good at fishing as it was a matter of Timmy being absolutely terrible.
“He’s not cheating,” Old Man said as Timmy muttered something about protoplasmic horrors possibly possessing an innate talent for fishing. “He’s precisely mimicking the movements of an actual fish with his lure. I suppose it’s easier for him since his lure is actually part of his body, but that doesn’t count as cheating.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Timmy sighed. “It’s not his fault that he can turn his tentacle into a fishing rod with a lure on it. Calling that cheating would be like saying a bird is cheating by using its wings to fly.”
Sam tried not to give the equivalent of a laugh as Timmy turned his attention back to his own fishing rod. He hadn’t gotten so much as a nibble since he’d caught and then throw back that scrawny, little fish. Still, Sam wasn’t cruel, and Timmy was his friend. He picked up one of his fish and threw it to Timmy.
“I don’t need your pity fish,” Timmy declared. “Because I will be catching the biggest fish we see all day.” He smirked as something tugged on his fishing line. “See that? I bet that’s my giant fish right now. Watch and learn, you two. Watch and learn.”
Unlike Timmy, Sam had no problem seeing through the surface of the water. It was one of the many benefits of being a trans-dimensional, protoplasmic horror. Timmy had indeed hooked a large fish. The only problem was that the fish wasn’t alone.
“Come on,” Timmy growled as he braced himself, reeled his line in, and yanked his fish out of the water – along with Spot. “What?” Timmy managed to blurt before Spot crashed into him. The dragon looked around for a moment before prying the large fish off Timmy’s hook and padding over to drop the fish in front of Old Man.
Cook? Spot wagged his tail hopefully.
“Yes, I’ll cook it for you,” Old Man said, trying not to laugh as Timmy got back to his feet.
“That was my fish!” Timmy cried, jabbing one finger at Spot. “It was on my hook!”
My fish. Spot huffed and bared his teeth. Got it first.
“Don’t you bare your teeth at me,” Timmy shot back. “Or have you forgotten who keeps those teeth of yours looking and feeling so great? The next time you see a fish on someone’s hook, leave it.” He turned back to the water and cast his line into the lake again. “Stay there, Spot. I don’t need you stealing another one of my fish.”
Didn’t steal it. Spot sprawled out on a rock, savouring the early afternoon sun. Idiot terrible at fishing.
Sam didn’t think Timmy was an idiot, but he might have signalled his agreement with Spot’s assessment of Timmy’s fishing ability.
Hardly a minute passed before Timmy’s line wiggled again. “Hah! I told you.” He grinned at Spot. “Now, remember, this one is mine…” He trailed off as he pulled his fish free of the water. It was roughly the same size as one of his fingers. Old man, Sam, and Spot all stared at him. “Not one word.” He looked about furtively. “And don’t tell Katie either. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
Sam used his tentacles to indicate his amusement, and Timmy did the mature thing. He used his shovel to throw mud at him. Sam turned intangible, which was yet another one of the benefits of being a trans-dimensional, protoplasmic horror, and the mud hit Spot instead.
The dragon trilled happily. Mud fight?
Old Man moved a safe distance away to begin cooking the fish as Sam, Spot, and Timmy engaged in an impromptu mud battle. They only stopped when the mouth-watering smell of perfectly cooked fish filled the air.
* * *
Katie was in the middle of playing a game of cards with some of the rats when Sam floated through one of the walls and hovered nearby. He’d shrunk himself down to a more manageable size, roughly a yard or so across.
“Hi, Sam.” Katie kept her eyes on the rats as she spoke. The one with the crossbow wasn’t so bad, but the rest would definitely cheat the moment she turned away. “We’re almost done. We can read some stories after that.”
Sam expressed his agreement with a lazy wave of his tentacles as he compared the cards each of the players had. Katie was slightly favoured to win, but the element of chance meant that he couldn’t be sure
. As for the stories, they were something he enjoyed. His kind had no need for them since they could share memories and travel across worlds and dimensions, but there was a difference between needing something and enjoying it. For example, Sam didn’t need cake, but he definitely enjoyed eating it on a regular basis.
The mere fact that Katie had turned out the way she had was a testament to how different Timmy was from his master. Sam and his kind occasionally encountered worlds that seemed very much like alternate versions of each other. He had glimpsed into one such world, one where Katie had never met Timmy. It had not been pleasant viewing, so he’d politely refrained from mentioning it to either Katie or Timmy. It would only make Katie feel sad, and the Katie in that timeline was already sad, angry, and hateful. There was no need to upset this Katie as well.
When the girl had been left on the castle’s doorstep, Timmy had still been a young man. He’d spent most of the time after Malcolm had died securing resources for the castle and fighting off the many, many enemies his master had left behind, as well as the people who’d thought they could take the castle from him. Sam had wondered how Timmy would handle having his own apprentice – it wasn’t like Malcolm had been a good role model – but Timmy had handled it well.
Timmy pushed Katie hard. There was a power inside her that Sam vaguely recognised and which would one day dwarf what Timmy was capable of, but there was none of the nastiness and cruelty that Malcolm had used. He seemed to know just how far and how quickly he could push her, and Katie took to her training with zeal. Timmy liked to joke about how Katie would one day overthrow him, but Sam doubted it would ever happen. Katie had a father, a man who’d sired her, but he wasn’t the one who’d raised her. He wasn’t the one who’d taught her everything she knew that was worth knowing. He wasn’t the one who’d held her, however awkwardly, after she’d had a nightmare about her shadow magic raging out of her control. And he definitely wasn’t the one who had accepted her for who she was, even with all of her eccentricities.
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