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

by L. G. Estrella

  “Yes, yes,” Timmy replied as he let his apprentice tug him along. He’d once tried to dig his heels in, but Katie had simply used her shadows to continue dragging him along. “And about your contacts with the giant shark, can you reach them with magic?”

  Katie tightened her grip on his sleeve. “They have a scrying sphere.”

  “Good. Ask them how long it would take them to reach the island where we’ll be picking up the pirates ships.” His lips curved up into a smirk. “We don’t know how long we’ll be waiting, and if they can meet us there with the giant shark, we might be able to put it to immediate use.”

  Katie stopped and a matching smirk crossed her lips. She cackled again. “That is a great idea, master.”

  An hour later, Timmy found himself tasked with carrying an inordinate number of bits and pieces, to say nothing of all of the books Katie had bought. He honestly had no idea how he’d ended up carrying everything. It would have been easier for Katie to carry everything with her shadows. In fact, if they’d waited, they could have brought Gerald along. The older man could easily have stored everything with his magic. Of course, there had to be some kind of limit to how much Gerald could store, but Timmy had yet to see it. Gerald had managed to store a zombie titan, after all, an actual zombie titan.

  Perhaps his present situation was caused by how adorable his apprentice was when she was pouting and glaring at him. Despite being a Grand Necromancer, he had yet to develop full immunity to Katie’s cuteness. It was like watching a kitten pretending to be a man-eating tiger – utterly adorable. It wasn’t like he’d encountered adorable children on a regular basis during his younger days. Most of his time as a child had been spent around Sam, who couldn’t really pull off a good pout due to his inhuman physiology, and his master, who was far more likely to torture him than pout. Oh, well. Such was life. Their last stop for the day – he hoped it was, anyway – was a menacing bookshop in a part of the city that could be politely described as an extremely unpleasant place peopled by individuals of a morally dubious nature. In other words, it was the rough part of town that every large port had.

  Indeed, some of those individuals of a morally dubious nature tried to rob them as they crossed the street to reach the bookshop. What was the world coming to when common thieves weren’t smart enough to steer clear of a necromancer and his apprentice? It certainly didn’t bode well for their criminal careers. He’d have to tell Gerald too. A rough atmosphere was tolerable in a place like this, but open thievery was not something Chesterton’s zealous officers of the law would overlook.

  Timmy snapped his shovel out to the side as he juggled the packages he was carrying. The sharpened edge of the weapon came to a rest against one would-be thief’s throat. “You know, you should always make sure that the person you’re trying to rob isn’t someone scary.”

  The thief, who was such a walking criminal stereotype with his scruffy hair, shabby clothing, and rusty knife that Timmy almost laughed, brandished his knife in what he most likely thought was an intimidating manner. Timmy, who had faced far better warriors with far better weapons, merely sighed.

  “Scary?” the thief growled. “You want to talk about scary? Do you know who I am?” The thief nodded at the alley he’d emerged from. There were half a dozen men there, and they looked every bit as scruffy as he did. “I own this street. If you want to cross it, then you’ve got to pay the toll.”

  “I see.” Timmy glanced at Katie. The girl took everything from him with her shadows and stepped back with a roll of her eyes at what she undoubtedly saw as a total waste of time. If someone was going to threaten her master, they were going to need a lot more than a rusty knife that they probably didn’t even know how to use properly. “You do realise that the practice you’re referring to usually only applies to bridges, and it’s usually trolls that are responsible. And let me ask you a question. Do you know who I am?”

  All he received in reply was some more knife waving and general cursing.

  “It seems that you don’t. Allow me to enlighten you. Are you familiar with Black Tower Castle?” The scruffy fellow nodded. Good. Timmy’s castle was rather famous, and it would save them all some time if the thief knew what it was. “I am the Lord of Black Tower Castle.”

  The thief stared and then threw his head back and laughed, despite the fact that Timmy still had his shovel at his throat. Really, he should be more careful. Timmy had been forced to move his shovel a few times when the thief had started waving his knife around to avoid cutting the man’s throat open. “Where are your black robes and your zombies? You’re not a necromancer. You’re a fool.”

  “My apprentice over there is wearing her black robes. I, however, prefer more practical attire. You may have also noticed the evil-looking shadows she’s using to hold our things. As for my zombies, I thought I’d leave them out of sight while I’m shopping since nothing makes shopping at the marketplace harder than a zombie-induced riot.” Timmy sighed dramatically and whacked the thief across the shoulder with his shovel. The thief dropped his knife from his suddenly numb hand and staggered backward with a wild curse. The others stepped out of the alley. “But if you require a demonstration, I would be happy to oblige.”

  Timmy reached out with his magic. There was an unfortunate squirrel nearby, which had been run over by a wagon. It couldn’t have happened too long ago – his necromancy could give him a rough estimate of how long ago something had died – so it was trivially easy to reanimate it. Had it been larger, the extensive damage it had suffered might have been problematic, but it was easy enough to use necromancy to reverse the damage since the squirrel was so small. With nothing more than a thought, he ordered the zombie squirrel to attack. The zombie squirrel lurched to its feet and then leapt at the leader of the thieves. The man screamed, clawing at the zombie squirrel, and turned to run. Timmy reanimated several dead rats from a nearby sewer and sent them after the thief’s fellows.

  “If you run fast enough,” Timmy drawled. “They won’t rip out your throats, so you’d better get going.”

  He cackled as the thieves fled the main road for the back alleys. Night wasn’t far away, so he decided to pull his zombies back. He would have them stand sentry outside in case the thieves – or anyone else – were foolish enough to come around and make more trouble. Not far off, his apprentice was shaking her head.

  “Zombie squirrels and zombie rats, master? That wasn’t very mature.” On Katie’s shoulder, Rembrandt squeaked his agreement. He’d been in favour of simply gutting the thieves. Ah, the rat could be so ruthless when it came to people who he felt had threatened Katie.

  “Maybe not. I could have beaten them up with my shovel or tossed some cobblestones at them, but there’s something fun about tiny zombies.” He chuckled. They’d run away so quickly. “My master would have killed the lot of them and used their souls to summon a demon or something. They should consider themselves lucky.”

  “That’s one way to look at it.” Katie practically threw the stuff back at him. It was only thanks to his excellent reflexes that he managed to catch all of it. “Let’s go inside.”

  Timmy put their things down near the counter at the front of the bookshop. He couldn’t afford to bump into anything in here since most places like this had a policy of whoever broke something bought it. He tossed a quick glance at the old man running the shop. He definitely had magic, and it felt vaguely like necromancy. It would explain why he owned a bookshop full of books that were either heavily frowned upon or less than legal to possess. Necromancy was likewise heavily frowned upon, if not outright illegal, in most countries, but necromancers were always in high demand whenever a war rolled around. The ability to bring the dead back to continue fighting was simply too powerful to ignore.

  He leaned on the counter. “Necromancer?”

  The old man cackled, and Timmy immediately knew what his response would be. Only a necromancer could have such an inspiring cackle. “I’m retired now, but I do practice every now and then.
It never hurts to have a few tricks up my sleeve. What about you? Are you looking to retire? You’re strong, I can tell that much, and the girl… she must be your apprentice.”

  “I’m a Grand Necromancer,” Timmy replied. There was a code amongst necromancers – even retired ones – to never reveal each other’s identities to those who would persecute them. A necromancer would rather die at the hands of a rival or an errant creation than call in help from the authorities to handle their rivals or their errant creations. The only help a necromancer would take in a battle against another necromancer would be from yet another necromancer. “They call me Timmy.”

  “Ah.” Recognition filled the old man’s eyes. “The Lord of Black Tower Castle.” His lips curved up into a smile. “That would explain the show outside. It was nicely done – the squirrel and those rats.”

  “A man has to stand his ground now and then.” Timmy peered at some of the books behind the counter. They were the most dangerous ones – the ones that normal customers were not allowed to peruse lest they harm themselves or others. He had most of them already, but there was one he didn’t recognise. His eyes widened as he read the title. “Is that…?”

  The old man followed his gaze and put his hands on his hips, posturing proudly. “Ah, yes. You are indeed looking at a copy of A History of the Ancient Cults and Forbidden Societies of the Eternal Empire by Lord Alfred Jeremy Barrington.”

  It was most likely a second edition. There had only been two editions before the Eternal Empire had caught the people responsible for the book’s publication and burned the lot of them as heretics and seditionists, which meant it had to be centuries old. Timmy had never managed to get a copy since trade between the Eternal Empire and Everton was, for obvious reasons, less than stellar. It wasn’t easy to find people who were willing to risk carrying such books across the border since the punishment for smuggling them in could range from simple imprisonment to hard labour and even death. He had no idea how this old man had managed to get one, but he knew that he wanted it.

  “How much?” Timmy asked. There was no point beating around the bush. The old man knew what he had, and Timmy doubted that he’d be fool enough to try to cheat him if he knew who Timmy was. The old man rubbed his long, grey beard for a moment and then named his price. It was a tad on the high side, but it was still a reasonable price for such a rare book. “I’ll take it.”

  Katie came back to the counter with a book about the life cycles of different breeds of basilisk and a book about alternate methods of putting together composite zombies, but she almost dropped both her books when she saw what he had. “What? They have that? Lend me some money, so I can buy it, master!”

  “Nope.” Timmy lifted the book out of her reach. “I’ve already bought it. It’s mine. Now, hurry up. We need to head back. If you’re good, I’ll even let you read it when I’m done.” He turned back to the old man. “I have a feeling this isn’t the only interesting book you can get your hands on. If anything else happens to cross your path, send a message to Black Tower Castle. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  The old man nodded and settled Katie’s purchases. Timmy whistled a happy tune on his way out as he ordered his newly made zombie squirrel and zombie rats to follow them. He’d keep them around. He might even bring them along when they set sail. Who knew when they’d come in handy? Katie waited until she thought he was distracted before she made a grab for the book he’d bought. He let her get within a hair’s breadth of grabbing it before he twisted away. She growled in frustration. Ah, his adorable apprentice still had a lot to learn.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Timmy marched up the gangplank onto one of the galleons the Council had dispatched for this mission. They were finally ready to move after two weeks in Chesterton. There were two smaller vessels moored alongside the galleon that would also take part in the mission, and Vicky had told him that they’d managed to secure half a dozen pirate ships of various sizes for his zombies to crew. Of course, they’d have to stop at an island along the way to pick them up, but if they were still seaworthy, it wouldn’t take long to integrate them into the makeshift fleet. He was hoping the pirate ships still had their flags because if they did, he’d be able to tick off another one of the things he’d dreamed of doing as a child – command a fleet of zombie pirates.

  “Captain Travers.” Timmy waved at the stout, middle-aged man who was the captain of the galleon and the leader of the men and women the Council had sent. Technically, Timmy would be his superior on this mission, but Timmy wasn’t planning on bossing him around too much. Timmy had heard of Travers from Vicky. He had a long history of success despite taking on dozens of difficult missions, and he hadn’t been bothered by Avraniel’s pyromania, Amanda’s vampirism, or Spot being a dragon. In fact, he’d been rather pleased by all of those things since if they were going to sail right into the teeth of the Eternal Empire, then he preferred to do so with as much power on his side as possible. “Are we almost ready to cast off?”

  “It shouldn’t be long now.” Travers turned to bark some orders before he continued. “We’re making sure we’ve got all of our supplies loaded. Gerald said your zombies wouldn’t need anything. Is he telling the truth?”

  Timmy nodded. “My magic is all they need, and they won’t even need it for a while since Gerald has them stored away with his magic.”

  “He’s a handy fellow to have around,” Travers said. “If I wasn’t certain he’s going to be seasick, I’d ask the Council to let me borrow him whenever I have a mission. He makes loading and unloading a breeze.”

  “He is very handy.” Gerald had done almost half of the loading and unloading himself by storing the heavier and bulkier items with his magic and then summoning them into the correct storage areas. “He’s not the best man in a fight, but he’s no coward. He’ll scream a lot, and he’s not good with a sword, but if you give orders, he’ll do his best to follow them. He is handy with a tower though. If you ever need something squashed flat, he’s your man.”

  Travers laughed. It was a big, booming sound that matched his bulky frame. “Well, I’ll keep him in mind. Personally, I’d rather have the elf with me in a fight. I’d bet there isn’t much her fire can’t kill.” He snarled at one a man who was lollygagging instead of working. The other man yelped and bustled into action. “I’ll have someone show you where you’ll be sleeping. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’ll have to do. Space is at a premium on a ship.” He looked over to where Avraniel had already staked out a sunny patch of the deck with Spot. “We’re not going to have any trouble with her, are we? I know she’ll be handy in a fight, but…”

  “It’ll be fine. She won’t set the ship on fire, especially not when she’s on it, and Spot knows you aren’t food. The time to worry is when all of the fighting starts. She might get a bit overenthusiastic then.”

  “I don’t mind if she’s overenthusiastic, as long as it’s in the direction of the enemy. What about the vampire?” Travers made a face. To his credit he wasn’t worried about Amanda turning on them, but this could be the first time that he’d ever seen a vampire old and powerful enough to walk in the sun. It had to be disconcerting, but he was mostly worried about practical matters. “I’ve had some space cleared out for her below decks, but I doubt there will be too many volunteers for giving blood.”

  “We’ve got it covered.” Timmy had made sure to stock up on blood before leaving the castle, and magic was being used to preserve it. Amanda said it didn’t taste quite as good as fresh blood, but it was better than nothing. Besides, she’d have plenty to drink once the battle started, and Gerald had some emergency blood stored away just in case. “And don’t worry about carrying her coffin. I don’t know why she insisted on bringing one, but she can definitely carry it herself.”

  “Yes, she can.” The captain pointed behind Timmy. The necromancer moved out of the way to let Amanda pass.

  The vampire was striding up the gangplank with her coffin held casually above her head wi
th one hand. Timmy had been there when she’d bought the coffin, which had been made in classic Everton style, all dark, polished wood and gleaming silver. It was far too heavy for a normal person to lift alone. It would have taken four strong men to carry it, and it wouldn’t have been easy for them either. Amanda had picked it because not only was it stylish but it was also designed to withstand fire, flood, and a host of other unpleasant things. With the coffin and her magic, Amanda could rest in peace and security.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. It is a truly lovely day, is it not?” Timmy tried not to roll his eyes as several people nearby swooned. Amanda had chosen to wear a fashionable dress of blood-red fabric that brought out the blue of her eyes and the paleness of her skin. Everyone knew she was a vampire – although they didn’t know she was James’s ancestor – but there was no denying her unearthly beauty. “Where shall I put this?”

  Travers blinked several times before he got over his surprise. He’d heard that Amanda was strong, but this was the first time that she’d demonstrated her strength. “You!” he pointed to a sailor. “Show her the place below deck we talked about.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Amanda smiled and allowed the sailor to take her free arm. “Lead on, good sir.”

  Travers chuckled. “She certainly makes an impression. We’ll be stopping at that island for those ships you wanted before we continue toward our final destination. It should take us about a fortnight and a half to get there, maybe longer since we won’t be able to rely too heavily on magic once we get close.”

  Timmy shared the captain’s expression of distaste. Sailors were a superstitious bunch, and they had adopted the use of magic more quickly than any other branch of the military. They used it to speed their ships along and to weather storms, and they also used it to attack their enemies from a distance, long before boarding became an issue. However, the island where the Eye was being kept would be certain to have spells in place to detect the use of magic nearby. A ship travelling by sail alone would be far more likely to evade notice until they were ready to commit to an attack. A ship that used a lot of magic would stick out like a sore thumb.