Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire (The Unconventional Heroes Series Book 3)

by L. G. Estrella

  It was the tone of voice that did it. Spot perked up and wriggled out of Avraniel’s arms. He hopped back onto the table and basked in Vicky’s praise, stretching his wings and preening. Avraniel smirked.

  “Maybe you’re not so bad, Sparky. I named him Spot because of the spot.” The elf pointed to the white spot on his snout. “Get it?”

  “Ah.” Vicky nodded seriously, seemingly deep in thought. “Of course. It makes perfect sense.”

  James’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and he turned to stare at Vicky as if she’d gone completely insane. As hard as it was to admit it, Timmy shared his feelings. It was obvious that Spot was basically death with wings. He’d seen those claws tear through a cow like it was made of paper, and he knew that Gerald had included that fact in his reports – reports that Vicky must have read.

  Katie nudged him with her elbow. “Master, does Councillor Winters like cute things?”

  Timmy considered the question. His apprentice might be onto something. Vicky definitely liked cute things, but her definition of cute could be utterly bizarre at times. She’d kept a hamster in her room at the academy even though pets were banned, and he had reason to believe that she’d successfully smuggled a pet rabbit into her quarters while training to serve the Order of the Blessed Dawn. Then there was the time they’d been on a training camp while at the academy. She’d returned from a jaunt through the woods claiming to have captured the most adorable creature. Timmy had been curious to see what it was since even then he’d noticed that she had a few quirks.

  The ‘most adorable creature’ turned out to be some kind of gigantic lizard thing that spewed poison and shot spikes out of its back. Vicky had pummelled it into submission with characteristic ease before suggesting – politely – that instead of being killed, the creature could be placed in a zoo that the capital maintained for exotic animals. The academy had granted her request – none of their instructors had been in the mood to disagree after watching her manhandle such a menacing beast – and Vicky still visited the creature whenever her schedule allowed. She’d called it Spike because of the spikes it shot out of its back.

  Timmy froze.

  Wait.

  Wait.

  No.

  Avraniel had chosen Spot’s name because of the spot on his snout. Vicky had chosen Spike’s name because of the spikes he shot out of his back. It was entirely possible that she and Avraniel actually had something in common. Timmy shuddered. If Vicky ever developed Avraniel’s taste for unnecessary property damage, then the world was doomed.

  “Katie,” Timmy said at last, still shuddering at the thought of Vicky and Avraniel teaming up to bring about the apocalypse. “When you’re one of the most powerful people in the world, almost anything can be cute to you, even if a normal person would be absolutely terrified.”

  “Oh.” Katie shrugged. “I guess it makes sense. I think zombie are cute, but most people find them scary.”

  Vicky cooed over Spot one last time and then stopped as James coughed with greater and greater force to try to regain her attention. “James, if you cough any harder, you’ll cough up a lung. And while I can fix that, I’d rather not have to bother.”

  “We should be so lucky,” Timmy mumbled.

  Katie giggled. “Master, that’s not very nice.”

  He scowled. He was under the impression that his apprentice shared his dislike for James. “What makes you say that?”

  “I thought that you wanted to be the one to get him.”

  “Good point.” Timmy patted his apprentice’s head and caught the fork she threw at him with her shadows. Ah, what a vengeful girl he’d raised. She was turning out to be quite the necromancer, and he looked forward to the day that he’d actually have to put real effort into defending himself when she plotted against him. Now, if only he could get her to like pink a little less. “Do either of you have any questions about Spot?”

  “Of course, we have questions.” James scowled. The documents on the table nearby stirred, a sign of his agitation since his control over his magic was usually excellent, and Vicky nudged him with her elbow. “Let me get straight to the point. Every previous attempt that I know of to raise dragons in captivity has failed. Why does Spot listen to you?”

  “It’s more accurate to say that he listens to her.” Timmy nodded at Avraniel.

  “And he listens to me because I’m awesome,” the elf said.

  James was not impressed. “I doubt that your awesomeness – or lack thereof – has anything whatsoever to do with the dragon listening to you.”

  “I dare you to come here and say that to my face, you poncy, stuck-up bastard!”

  “Maybe I will –”

  Katie made a giant hand out of her shadows and waved it around. Ah, her magic could be wonderfully handy. “I think I know why Spot listens to her.”

  “Do you?” James’s brows furrowed, and he leaned forward to get a better look at Katie. “And how old are you again, girl? Five?”

  “James, you’re an idiot, and it’s obvious that you’re not good with children.” Timmy had to hold Katie back. She was not happy about what James had said. “She’s ten years old, James. Ten. I know she’s short.” He ducked under a scythe made of pure darkness. “And she’s grumpy a lot, but she’s not that short and grumpy.” He pushed Katie back into her seat. “How about you continue, Katie?” Timmy had reread the entire book about dragons, and it had offered some interesting theories about how dragons identified their parents. Katie had read the book too, and he had no doubt that she’d noticed the same theory he had. His apprentice was not only powerful but also highly intelligent. Hah! Take that James! Timmy would bet his own weight in gold that Katie would turn out stronger than anyone James trained.

  “Dragon researchers have noted that hatchlings typically burn everything in their immediate vicinity upon hatching. Some researchers believe that they do this in order to identify their parents. According to this theory, if there is a creature nearby that their flames don’t hurt, then they will identify that creature as one of their parents.” Katie gestured at Spot who was eyeing some of the fruits on the table hungrily. Avraniel tossed a banana at the dragon, and he devoured it with the same zeal that he devoured everything else. “When Spot hatched, he breathed fire everywhere. The only person who didn’t retreat was Avraniel.”

  “That does match with what I know of previous attempts,” James murmured. “When the Council tried to create a unit of dragon riders two centuries ago, seventy per cent of the handlers were immolated shortly after the dragons hatched. The ones who weren’t immolated were wearing protective equipment, but the hatchlings attacked them anyway. Only a handful of them managed to avoid getting eaten.”

  “It’s about how they responded to the fire,” Katie replied. “Dragons are creatures of fire. People are not. Even fire mages don’t respond well to dragon fire, and the hatchlings can sense their fear since dragons are supposed to have an ability similar to telepathy. But a dragon – a real dragon – wouldn’t be afraid of dragon fire, not when it’s only coming from a hatchling. Avraniel isn’t afraid of dragon fire. She was even able to control some of Black Scales’s fire.”

  “Fascinating.” Vicky cupped her chin in one hand. “So you think that Spot identified Avraniel as his mother not only because she was unharmed by his fire but also because she responded to it in the way a real dragon would have?”

  “It makes sense.”

  “Yes, it does.” James’s lips curled in distaste. “But it also means that we won’t be able to do this again without giving Avraniel another dragon egg.” It went unspoken that giving the elf another dragon egg was not a good idea. “Regardless of what I think of you, elf, you are the most powerful fire mage that I’ve ever met, and you don’t act like a mage or an elf. You act more like a dragon in the body of an elf. If anyone else had tried what you did…”

  “Spot would either have burned them alive or tried to eat them.” Katie grimaced. “You need someone with fire
magic as powerful as Avraniel’s who also has a similar attitude.”

  “Avraniel is one of a kind,” Timmy said. “Which is a bad thing because we won’t be able to train more dragons, and a good thing because we don’t have to worry about being set on fire or eaten because as far as I know, there is no one in Everton with fire magic stronger than her. And I doubt that there’s anyone else in the world who can laugh at dragon fire the way she does.”

  Avraniel snorted inelegantly and tossed another banana to Spot. “I told you, it’s because I’m awesome.”

  “Yes, at causing property damage and generating paperwork,” James muttered. “The Council has files about prominent criminals sorted by threat level and alphabetical order. You’re not with the other criminals. Your file has its own room.” Avraniel smirked. She bet Timmy’s file didn’t have its own room. “Tell us, what else have you managed to accomplish with the dragon? It’s clear that you’ve spent some time training him since he isn’t trying to eat everybody.”

  Timmy was forced to take over from Avraniel since most of her descriptions of Spot’s training were filled with a mixture of incredible profanity and saccharine cooing over how loveable and adorable Spot was. Needless to say, James was both deeply intrigued and utterly terrified by what they’d managed to achieve so far. This was Everton’s first real chance to study a growing dragon, and although James trusted Timmy’s survival instincts enough to know that he would do his best to avoid making a mess of it, the thought of Avraniel being in charge of educating a creature that would one day measure hundreds of feet long and breathe fire hot enough to melt solid rock in seconds was the stuff of nightmares.

  Throughout the discussion, Gerald was hard at working writing everything down. If something went horribly wrong, the Council should at least be able to pinpoint the exact moment Spot brought about the apocalypse. Black Scales had been a legendary dragon – one that had struck terror into all who had been unfortunate to lay eyes upon him – and Spot had the potential to be even more dangerous due to his unique heritage.

  “Has he shown any other characteristics of being an astral dragon?” Vicky asked. She was still lavishing attention on Spot, and Timmy was certain she would have tried to pry the dragon out of Avraniel’s arms if she’d actually been in the room. “I have encountered a few in the astral world, but they were already fully grown and far from sociable.” She cracked her knuckles. “One of them did try to eat me. I broke its jaw.”

  “Other than the healing fire? No.” Timmy got a banana and began to unpeel it, but Spot gave him the most pitiful look imaginable. How could a dragon, of all things, be so good at pouting? Well aware of the fact that the dragon was manipulating him, Timmy sighed and tossed the banana to Spot. Let the dragon have that one. He was a growing dragon, after all. “I did suggest whacking him with a shovel to see if he’d turn intangible, but Avraniel vetoed that suggestion.”

  “I threatened to kill him,” Avraniel added helpfully. “You know, with lots of fire and an arrow to the eye.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Vicky nodded to herself. “I, for one, am satisfied that this is being handled as well as possible. We simply don’t know enough about raising dragons successfully to do anything except let you try. You’ve already done better than everyone else, so I believe that the most prudent course of action is to leave this in your hands.” She glanced at Gerald and favoured the bureaucrat with a warm smile. “Gerald, please continue to write everything down. Your reports, although unbelievably long and detailed, have been very useful. Good work.”

  Gerald snapped to attention. He’d been taking copious notes throughout the entire discussion. Timmy was sure Gerald hadn’t missed a single word they’d spoken. “Thank you, Councillor Winters! I will continue to do my best.”

  “See that you do, Gerald,” James said. “And, as much as it pains me to say this, I think my fellow councillor is right. I’d rather not have the world’s most psychotic elf in charge of a baby dragon, but beggars can’t be choosers. Timmy, I know you enjoy living, so I’m going to assume that you’ll do your best to keep this under control.”

  “I will.” Timmy poured himself a glass of juice. “Now, have you got any other missions for us? I’d like to earn my pardon sooner rather than later, and Spot could use some more experience in the field. He helped Avraniel capture the Bloody Wyvern Bandits, but they weren’t exactly challenging for him to deal with. All they had was a hydra, and Spot ate it.”

  Vicky reached for a piece of paper on her desk. She skimmed through it quickly. “There is something coming up. It might be right up your alley, but for the moment, we don’t have anything that requires your particular skills. James?”

  “I can’t think of anything at the moment.” James pulled a roll of parchment out of his pocket. “Although there is an infestation of ogres taking place on the other side of the south-western border. We already have soldiers at the border, but you know how it is. We can’t technically cross the border without certain consequences, but the clan there has long been friendly toward us. They could use some help, and it might give… Spot a chance to practice working as part of a team. If it works out, it might make him less inclined to eat the lot of us when he gets bigger.”

  “Ogres, huh?” Timmy did a quick check of his mental inventory of the castle’s supplies. Unless he was mistaken, they were running worryingly low on ogre corpses. “Do you need them dead or alive?”

  “Dead would be better,” James replied. His voice hardened. “According to our… friends, they’ve already eaten a few villagers. It would be best for you to solve the problem permanently since we don’t know when the situation along the border will cool down enough for us to deploy our troops officially.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.” Timmy grinned. “In fact, we’ll get right on it.” He glanced at Spot. “Have you ever eaten an ogre before?”

  The dragon perked up at the mention of food. No. Tasty?

  “I don’t know. People don’t eat ogres. It’s usually the other way around, but I think you’ll get a chance pretty soon.”

  Chapter Four

  “What can you tell me about ogres, Katie?” Timmy smiled across the campfire at his apprentice.

  They’d left the castle a few days ago to go deal with the ogres. Of course, Katie being Katie, she’d spent the days before their departure learning everything there was to know about ogres from the castle’s massive library. One of the keys to being a good necromancer was developing a thorough understanding of the physiologies of various species, so they could be reanimated as efficiently as possible. It was also extremely useful when it came to creating composite zombies, which were made by combining parts from different species. Timmy’s zombie hydra-dragon-bear had been one example, and Katie’s zombie pig-lion had been another, albeit less troublesome, example.

  Indeed, Timmy’s first attempt to stitch together a zombie dragon-bull had gone hilariously wrong. He’d gotten the veins and arteries mixed up about halfway through the process, and things had gone downhill from there. It had taken him days to get the smell of dead dragon and dead bull out of his hair, and his master had put him through several hideously tortuous training sessions involving lions and honey badgers before letting him off the hook. He’d made a point of studying more thoroughly since then. There was also nothing worse than handing over a hefty sum of gold for a rare and promising specimen only to break it because he didn’t understand its physiology properly. Studying could be onerous, but it was also much more cost effective in the long run.

  “Ogres are a humanoid species that was once widespread across most continents. Prior to Everton’s foundation, they were often at war with the elves. Aid against the ogres was one of several conditions that the elves imposed before joining Everton during its war of independence.”

  “Not bad,” Timmy replied. “But we’re not going to be giving the ogres a history lesson. I mean we could, but it wouldn’t help. They’d probably try to bash our heads i
n, so they could eat us. Now, tell me how to deal with an ogre.”

  “Ogres are renowned for their immense physical strength and their dire lack of intelligence.” Katie bit her lip. “The average ogre can uproot a tree and use it as a club but will struggle to tell the difference between left and right. Indeed, ogres rarely fashion weapons more complex than spears or clubs. A particularly bright ogre might – maybe – make a functional bow, but such ogres are considered very rare.”

  To say that ogres were stupid would have been insulting to people who were stupid. They went beyond stupid into transcendentally idiotic. If they had been even marginally more intelligent, they would have posed a grave threat to the lands held by men, elves, dwarves, and other, more intelligent, races. As it was, ogres were more like pests to any nation with skilled mages and a decent army. They were dangerous, sure, but they were more like wild dogs. The occasional campaign to drive them off was usually enough to keep them under control, which was why Everton itself didn’t have much of an ogre problem. The elves had made it a priority to wipe out every ogre they could get their hands on. The tree huggers, as Avraniel called them, liked to talk about peace, but they could be incredibly vengeful when they put their minds to it. It made sense. They lived a long time, so they stewed over their grudges for centuries.

  “Ogres typically enjoy eating the flesh of other humanoid creatures, and cannibalism between rival groups of ogres is not uncommon. This desire for food generally serves as their motivation to attack small settlements like isolated villages and outlying towns.” Katie shuddered. Necromancy was one thing, but eating other people was just weird. “Ogres are usually around eight or nine feet tall, and most of them possess immense strength despite appearing flabby or even obese. The number of heads an ogre has is related to both age and intelligence. The older an ogre is, the more heads it is likely to have, and the more heads an ogre has, the more intelligent it is likely to be.” She paused and poked her stick with marshmallows on it back into the fire. She’d decided to bring the marshmallows after realising how much time they spent camping when they went on missions. Their missions were serious business, but there was no reason that she couldn’t enjoy some candy from time to time. “Ogres are also capable of magic although they seldom use it in anything but an instinctive manner.”