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

by L. G. Estrella

  “Why not fly all the way there?” Avraniel asked. “I’ve ridden a camel before. They suck, and they spit. A lot.”

  Timmy shook his head. “We can’t simply fly there. They have spells and sentries in place, so they’ll notice anything flying in. However, it’s not too unusual for travellers or traders to pass through that part of the desert on camels. A zombie wyvern is another story. They’d take one look at it and start getting prepared. Believe me, you do not want them to be prepared if we’re trying to break in.”

  “Once we get there, how will we get in?” Old Man asked. “I have several techniques that might – perhaps – be able to damage the barrier. But if it is as complex and powerful as you say, then I doubt that I will be able to cut through it.” His expression grew wistful. “I… once served someone who lived in a fortress protected by a powerful barrier.”

  “I can take the barrier down,” Timmy replied. The others startled slightly. He could understand their surprise. There had been something in his voice that was rarely there: the adamantine resolve and unwavering determination of the boy who’d escaped one of the most formidable prisons ever built. “It won’t be easy, and I’ll need your help, but I promise you, I can bring the barrier down. And it will stay down long enough for us to do what we have to.”

  Avraniel smirked. “The look in your eyes just now, idiot. I like it. Those are the eyes of someone I can actually respect.”

  Katie nodded. “Sometimes, master, you can actually be pretty impressive.”

  Timmy laughed. “Thank you for your vote of confidence.”

  Gerald coughed. “Do I need to come along on this mission? I’d be more than happy to, uh, hold down the fort here.”

  Timmy put one hand on Gerald’s shoulder. “I’m afraid that we need you for this, but don’t worry. If everything goes according to plan, you won’t have to fight anyone. In fact, if things goes well, Amanda will do a lot of the fighting for us.”

  Chapter Seven

  Timmy breathed a sigh of relief as he slid off his zombie wyvern to the ground. Extended flights weren’t taxing from a magical perspective – his zombie wyverns were too well made and his skills in necromancy were too good to be troubled by something as simple as flying – but they could be taxing on his concentration. Under most circumstances, zombie wyverns didn’t have to worry about their positioning in the air, nor did they have to worry about banking or diving too sharply. They were tireless, relentless, and almost perfect for patrolling the sky. It was a different story when they had to spend the entire day carrying people.

  A quick glance to the side confirmed his suspicions about his apprentice. Katie had definitely begun to flag. He’d let her control the other zombie wyvern since it would give her a chance to practice her fine control over a much longer period of time than usual. It was usually enough for a necromancer to issue some general orders to a group of zombies and then leave them to get the job done. It was rarely necessary to maintain firm control over a zombie for a long period of time, and it was much more mentally taxing. Despite all of her precocious talent, Katie was still only a child of ten. Her magic and her mind had a long way to go before they were fully developed.

  The flight had taken them a little over two days since they’d stopped for breaks and when the weather had grown too poor for them to fly comfortably. Those breaks had been especially necessary for Gerald. The poor fellow got airsick easily, and Katie would have been extremely unimpressed if he’d vomited in her hair. In the end, Timmy had been forced to dose him up with a potion for motion sickness – Gerald really did have a bit of everything stored away with his magic – before tying him into place behind him with a few paper bags close at hand. Gerald had gone through half a dozen of those paper bags throughout the flight, and he was currently all but dead on his feet. Timmy was also curious to know if they’d hit anyone with those bags after Gerald had dropped them. Hopefully, they hadn’t.

  In contrast to Gerald, Old Man seemed to have been reinvigorated by the flight, and there was a noticeable spring in his step. He hadn’t flown much before, and he’d enjoyed the experience. Gerald stumbled, and Old Man drifted back to help him. As for Avraniel, she had enjoyed the trip too, and she’d spent most of it talking to Spot who had managed to keep pace with the zombie wyverns for long stretches of the journey. However, it was his first truly extended flight, so he had spent some time hitching a ride, and he was currently resting his wings and walking alongside them. If anyone asked, they would label Spot as some kind of weird drake, which would make him an interesting specimen, but nothing worth making a big fuss over. It would probably work unless they ran into an expert in dragons or Spot breathed fire.

  Right now, they were about half an hour on foot from Kargahd, which was the last major city before the Desert of Glass. He waited to make sure that the others were following him – and that Gerald had recovered enough to store the zombie wyverns away with his magic – before he continued down the rough dirt trail that led to the main road.

  “Come on,” Timmy said. He glanced up at the sky. “We’ve got a couple of hours until nightfall, but we don’t want to be late. They close the gates at dusk, and even if bandits aren’t a threat to us, I’d like to avoid making a mess.” He fell into step beside Gerald. The bureaucrat was still getting his land legs back. “Are you okay with storing those zombie wyverns?”

  “I’m fine,” Gerald said. He gave Timmy a weak smile. “They’re not bad, actually. Storing that zombie titan of yours was far more difficult.”

  “Good.” Timmy smiled back. “If everything goes to plan, you won’t have to worry about flying again until we’re on our way back.”

  “Oh, thank the gods.” Gerald breathed a sigh of relief. “Either remind me not to eat anything before our next flight, or dose me up with potions first.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that.”

  Once they were on the main road, it wasn’t long before they came across other travellers. Like most people who lived in or near the desert, they dressed to protect themselves from the harsh desert sun and the tearing winds. Timmy had asked the others to dress appropriately not only to protect themselves but also to avoid drawing even more attention in a place where they were already likely to draw curious eyes.

  For Katie, surprisingly little adjustment had been necessary. She already went about in necromancer robes, so there wasn’t much to change other than switching to a cooler, more breathable fabric. She’d also exchanged her clogs for a stout pair of boots since the desert sand would not provide her with the firmest footing. Boots were also much better at keeping sand out than clogs.

  Avraniel didn’t need to change – he doubted that she could even get sunburn or heat exhaustion – but she was still wearing the cloak she’d made out of the phoenix feathers she’d stolen from him. At least, he’d managed to convince her to throw a larger, drabber cloak over it. He sincerely hoped that none of the many pickpockets in Kargahd tried to steal from her. Otherwise, he’d have to bribe some of the city’s officials after she demolished a nice chunk of the place.

  Old Man and Gerald were both wearing almost identical attire that the bureaucrat had procured from the seemingly endless supply of clothing he had access to thanks to his magic. Apparently, he had once done a stint as a bureaucrat near a desert, and he’d bought appropriate clothing back then and never gotten rid of it. Timmy could understand why. Gerald’s magic made it incredibly easy to hoard things. Of course, Old Man was still wearing that straw hat of his. Timmy would have to ask him about it someday. It must have had some sentimental value.

  Timmy noticed Old Man looking around curiously. “Have you not been here before?” The other travellers nearby had taken one look at Spot and given them a wide berth. Even if they didn’t know what he was, they could tell that he was dangerous. The distinctly toothy smile the young dragon wore did not help, and Timmy reached down to scratch Spot’s back. “Try to make your smile a little less toothy, Spot. They’re not food.”

  �
�Not yet.” Avraniel grinned at Spot. “But if they’re dumb enough to attack us…”

  Eat.

  “Yep.” Avraniel cackled. “If they attack us, they’re bad. And you can eat bad people, Spot.”

  Old Man chuckled. He found Spot’s enthusiasm refreshing although he pitied anyone foolish enough to underestimate the dragon due to his youth and lack of size. “I am very well travelled, Timmy, but I never did spend much time in this area. It’s a shame. I have heard that few sights can match the dawn breaking over the Desert of Glass. I reached Everton by boat, and my plants struggle in this heat.”

  “Will your bonsai tree be okay?” Timmy asked. Old Man hadn’t transformed it into a sword yet, most likely to keep up the appearance of a harmless, old man.

  “It should be fine. If it begins to struggle, I will transform it into its sword form.” Old Man adjusted his grip on the pot. “Once a properly cultivated bonsai tree has fully matured and can transform into a sword, it becomes a lot hardier.”

  “Good. I have a feeling you’ll need it later.” Timmy waved as a gaggle of children on a camel rode past. Their parents were on another dromedary, and they had the harried expressions of people who’d spent far too long on the road with a group of young children. “I’m not sure how familiar the rest of you are with this area, so there are a few things that I want to explain before we reach Kargahd. Listen closely and follow my advice, and things will go much more smoothly. Trust me, a lot can go wrong very quickly out here.”

  “I’m listening, master.” Katie’s gaze nevertheless drifted to a passing merchant. He appeared to be selling exotic carpets that had been enchanted to fly. Timmy followed her gaze. Interesting. He might have to buy one later although the prices on flying carpets were always extortionate, and they had the most alarming tendency to stop working at critical moments. Then again, Gerald might find it easier to fly on a magic carpet than a zombie wyvern, and it couldn’t hurt to have Gerald store one away in case there was an emergency. “What do we need to know?”

  “The first thing you need to understand is that Kargahd is one of several independent cities. These cities are not united into a single nation the way Everton is. Basically, every large town or city has its own ruler, and each of them has its own rules. Kargahd is the last major city before the Desert of Glass, so it’s a trading city. As a result, it’s different from most places. The rules are simple: almost anything goes, so long as you aren’t wrecking the place. You’ll find all sorts of things being sold here for all sorts of prices. Almost everything is for sale. And if you’re not sure what to do and you’re in trouble? Bribe everyone. It’ll get you out of just about anything – and I mean anything. Never, ever go anywhere without enough money to bribe at least a couple of low-level officials, not if you want to stay out of trouble.”

  “What about things like murder?”

  “Even lives are for sale in places like this, which is why I want you to stick together. If you think you’re in trouble, then punch first and worry about bribing the officials later. It’s easier and safer that way. Gerald, make sure you stay near one of us at all times. Avraniel, keep an eye on Spot. I know he’s tough, and we’re calling him a drake, but exotic animals are all the rage here. Someone might be stupid enough to try to snatch him.”

  “If anyone tries to take Spot, they’re going to die. I’ll feed the bastards to him.” Spot nodded enthusiastically from beside the elf.

  “What kind of place is this?” Gerald whispered. “And how long are we going to be here?”

  “It’s a strange place, but we won’t be here longer than a day or two at the most.” Timmy patted him on the shoulder. “Relax. I know someone here. It’s been a while since I’ve dropped by, but he should still remember me. He’ll help smooth things over for us. Now, remember what I said. Bribe everyone and punch first if you have to. You also need to be careful about money here. Each city mints its own coins, but much of the coinage is from other countries, and a lot of it is counterfeit. Check that any coins you receive are real and keep a close eye on your money.”

  “Right.” Katie tucked her money pouch, a bright pink monstrosity with purple rats sewn onto it, into one of the inner pockets of her robe. Rembrandt, who was in another one of her pockets, gave a few squeaks of reassurance. Anyone who tried to steal from her was in for a nasty – and pointy – surprise. Likewise, the other rats that had decided to come along on this mission had distributed themselves amongst the others. In a crowded marketplace or a busy street, no one would notice them, even if they weren’t invisible. The rats, however, would notice everything. “Are we going to have any problems entering the city, master?”

  Timmy waved one hand dismissively. “No, we’ll be fine. The man I know is quite important. As long as nothing has happened to him since the last time I visited – and it’s been years since the last coup – we’ll be able to get into the city without a hitch.”

  They reached the gates and found themselves amidst a crowd of wagons, caravans, people on horseback and camels, and even more people on foot. The gate itself was made of thick wood reinforced with metal, and it was set in a large wall of badly weathered, grey stone. The wall was enchanted to withstand lesser forms of magic, as was the gate, but neither of them would stand up to what Timmy could do with his shovel. As he waited for the line to move, he studied the guards who manned the gate. They all wore black clothing with the same red insignia as the last time he’d visited. Good. There hadn’t been a coup – an all too common occurrence in this part of the world. The constant warring both between and within the independent cities meant that changes in power had a tendency to be unexpected and bloody.

  When their turn arrived – the people in front of them had spent at least ten minutes arguing about some trivial matter, which had pushed Avraniel to the brink of fiery violence – Timmy opted to speak in one of the desert tongues, rather than the language common to the Eternal Empire and its former colonies, like Everton.

  “Is Captain Burag still Master of the Gate?” Timmy asked. The desert tongue was harsh and rough to many ears, but his speech was even rougher since it had been years since he’d spoken it.

  The leader of the guards eyed him cautiously. In cities like this, personal connections were everything. If he offended a friend of his captain, he could easily be flogged. However, if he burdened his captain with something irrelevant, he could also be flogged. It was a lose-lose situation, and Timmy had often wondered if it was simply a case of malevolent leaders looking for excuses to flog people. “How do you know the captain?”

  Timmy reached into his cloak and pulled out an old badge. It was badly battered, but the guard’s eyes widened at the sight of it. Such badges were only given to people who had earned the trust of certain city officials, the Master of the Gate amongst them. “Tell your captain that Timmy is here. He will know who I am.”

  As the guard rushed off, Katie tugged on his sleeve. “I didn’t know that you could speak any of the desert languages, master. You should teach me.”

  “I’m not completely fluent although I suppose I’m not bad. I actually read it better than I speak it.” Timmy brushed some dust off his cloak. The wind had picked up again. He’d have to wrap something around his face to protect his eyes if it got any worse, or he could borrow some goggles from Gerald. The man certainly had enough of them stored away. “And don’t worry. Most people here speak our language since this is a trading city, and they do plenty of business with us, the Eternal Empire, and other former colonies.” His lips twitched. “There is a lot of bickering here amongst people from competing nations. Please, try not to start any fights over whose country is the best.”

  “How do you know the Master of the Gate?” Old Man asked. Despite his earlier words, Timmy was not surprised to find out that Old Man could understand the language. “A badge like the one you have is not given lightly.”

  Timmy lowered his voice, so only they would hear him. “When my master and I escaped, we needed someone to guide
us back to civilisation, so we needed to bring someone with us. I convinced my master to break Burag out too since he seemed more trustworthy than the other prisoners we’d encountered. Needless to say, Burag did not object. We’ve kept in touch ever since, and I’ve visited a few times over the years. I suppose you could say that we’re sworn brothers according to the customs of his people, so he should help us out.”

  A few minutes later, an absolute mountain of a man rushed forward. He was broadly built and close to seven feet tall. He wore the ornate armour of a senior captain and the stylised cloak and helmet of the Master of the Gate. He paused for a moment and then lifted Timmy clean off his feet into a bone-crushing hug.

  “It has been too long, my friend!” Burag exclaimed in the language of Everton. “Why, it’s been almost four years!”

  Timmy gasped. “Let go, Burag. You’re breaking my ribs, and I happen to need those.”

  “Ah, my apologies.” Burag gave Timmy a most unapologetic grin. “But it is good to see you again. I keep telling you to visit more often, but you must be busy with your castle and your zombies.” He looked past Timmy to the rest of the group and gestured for them to follow him into the city. “You have brought some very interesting people with you. I trust they will not cause any problems.”

  “They won’t – not here, anyway.”

  “Hah!” Burag laughed again, a big, booming sound. “That is all I ask. You can burn the whole desert for all I care. My oaths and my duty are to this city. So long as it is safe, my honour is assured, and my family will prosper.” He threw one arm around Timmy’s shoulders. “So what brings you here? I doubt it is because you wish to see the desert sands once more.”

  “Not out here.” Timmy nudged Burag with his elbow. “It’s about… old times.”