“I see.” Gerald didn’t see. He really didn’t.
Katie cackled. “They can also turn invisible.”
* * *
Timmy read through all the paperwork again just to be sure, but he didn’t have to think very hard before coming to his decision. All he had to do was help crush anyone who attacked Everton in the upcoming war, recruit a bunch of miscreants with a whole heap of problems, and then he and Katie were home free. It would be hard, but it wasn’t impossible. The Council didn’t want him dead, but they did want him to work for his pardon. If they wanted him dead, then they would have sent James. For someone who prized tradition so much, the other man had revolutionised the art of blowing things up.
The next morning, Timmy took Katie aside. Ultimately, it was his decision to make, but he wanted to know what she thought. Plus, she’d definitely sic the ninja rats on him if she didn’t feel involved enough.
“What do you think of the offer?”
“We should take it.” Katie shrugged. There was a different rat on her shoulder today. This one sported a spear and a psychotic smile. “If we can get that pardon, then we won’t have to worry anymore. The last thing I need is for the Council to come and take the castle. I intend to inherit it when you finally kick the bucket, thank you very much.”
“Right.” He hoped she wasn’t planning on helping him along with that.
“Oh, don’t be so worried.” Katie smiled sunnily, which was far more terrifying than her scowl. “You still have lots to teach me.” She rubbed her hands together. “But after that…” The rat on her shoulder made several stabbing motions with its spear.
They met Gerald for breakfast in the dining room. Rather than beat around the bush, Timmy got right to it. The sooner he agreed, the sooner he could get it done.
“We’ll take the offer.”
“Oh, thank the gods.” Gerald sagged back into his chair and chugged on his cup of coffee. He had dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps he’d gone wandering around the castle despite Timmy’s warnings. “I was worried you might refuse.”
Timmy raised one eyebrow. “So you were desperate. You hid it well.”
“The Council is under a lot of pressure, which means that I’m under even more pressure.” A folder appeared in Gerald’s hands. “Have a look at this. This is the first person we’d like you to recruit.”
“Okay.” Timmy reached for the folder. “I know how the Council works. Before I read this, what isn’t in the file?”
“Quite a lot. Your target has become something of a legend. After getting rid of all the unconfirmed rumours and speculation, we don’t know a lot about her. I can tell you that she’s very… odd.”
“Odd?” Timmy opened the folder and almost sprayed his coffee across the table. It was a good thing that he’d managed to keep his coffee in his mouth. It would have been terribly unhygienic to spit it out, and Katie was very partial to pancakes. If he’d gotten his coffee all over them, he would have had days of Katie plotting his demise to look forward to, and her plotting had gotten much, much better over the past year or two. “Are you serious? You want us to find and recruit She Who Cannot Be Named Because Of Her Penchant For Fiery Violence And General Bloodthirstiness?”
“Yes, that’s what the Council wants.” Gerald shrugged and scratched the back of his head. “It is a rather long title, isn’t it?”
“It’s a very apt title.” A chill ran down Timmy’s spine. “Trust me, she more than lives up to the name.”
“Which is why you’ll be going after her.” Gerald pointed at the rat on Katie’s shoulder. “Is that one of the ninja rats?”
The girl patted the rat on the back. “Yes.”
“Fascinating. What can it do with that spear?”
“Show them.” Katie grabbed an apple and threw it into the air. The rat hurled its spear at the apple, and the fruit exploded. “See?”
“I can see why you keep them around.” Gerald bent down to grab a small piece of the apple. It was scorched and still smoking.
“Wait until you meet the one who walks around with a pickaxe.” Timmy reached for some bread. “Or the one who carries a scythe. Now, they’re scary.”
It was another two days before Timmy, Katie, and Gerald left the castle. The person they were after would not be easy prey. There were preparations to make, and there was still the matter of the zombie pig-lion to consider. They hadn’t been able to find it, but it was kind enough to ambush them on their way out. How convenient.
“Gerald!” Timmy grabbed the older man by the shoulder. “Do not move and do not look up.”
Of course, Gerald took that as his cue to look up. There was a very large and very toothy zombie pig-lion hanging from the ceiling above him, its shaggy mane covered in zombie goo. How the creature managed to stay on the ceiling, Timmy wasn’t sure. Neither pigs nor lions were renowned for their ceiling-climbing abilities. Oh well, it must be a zombie thing, like the time his zombie tiger-elephant had started breathing fire.
“Is that the zombie pig-lion?” Gerald gulped and grabbed a book out of thin air. Unfortunately for him, a copy of The Everton Encyclopaedia of Magic wasn’t likely to be of much help. Then again, he could always try to beat the creature to death with it.
“It is.” Timmy grabbed his shovel and then stopped. He could kill the creature himself, but the mess would be horrible. It would take hours to clean up, and they were already five minutes behind schedule. “Katie, deal with it. Keep it tidy.”
The girl huffed and spread her arms out to either side. The shadows cast by her robes trembled for a split-second and then solidified. The zombie pig-lion leapt off the ceiling at Gerald, but Katie’s shadows were there to meet it halfway. Her shadows transformed into an enormous black scythe, and there was a wet squelch as she cut off the creature’s arms and legs before severing its head. Blood and gore rained down, but her shadows changed again, turning into a large bowl to catch the mess before it could hit them or the ground.
“Good work, Katie.” Timmy snapped his fingers and several zombies appeared with buckets. The girl emptied the gore her shadows had caught into the buckets, and the zombies hauled the zombie pig-lion away. The things under the castle wouldn’t mind another treat. “Let’s go.”
Gerald fell into step beside Katie as Timmy marched down the corridor with his shovel slung over one shoulder. “That was quite a display, Katie. You didn’t even hesitate.”
Katie made a non-committal sound. “My master says that I need to be able to defend myself. A necromancer should always let their zombies do the fighting if they can, but that doesn’t always work. Sometimes, you have to fight yourself. My master has his shovel, and I have my shadows.”
A notepad appeared in Gerald’s hand, along with a quill and some ink. He jotted down a few things and then turned back to Katie. “Have you ever beaten your master in a fight?”
Timmy sniggered and then leaned to one side as Katie’s shadows formed into a sword and lunged at his head.
Katie made a face. “He might not look like much, but my master is pretty tough.” Timmy glanced over his shoulder. True, he wasn’t the most intimidating or handsome necromancer around, but that was cold, even for his apprentice. “We spar regularly, but I’ve never beaten him. It might be another three or four years before I can give him a run for his money.
“I see.” Gerald couldn’t help himself. Katie’s scowl was so adorable. He patted her on the head. “I’m sure you’ll be better than him one day.”
“Katie,” Timmy said as the girl’s shadows stirred. “Remember what we talked about. No trying to kill the inspector.” Gerald froze. “Calm down, Gerald. I’m joking – mostly. She doesn’t want people treating her like a kid even if she is one.” He dodged another one of Katie’s shadows and then leapt over another that sliced at his ankles. “See?”
“I’ll be sure to remember that.” Gerald flipped open his notebook again. Note to self: do not treat Katie like a kid.
They left the castle
on horseback, accompanied by two dozen of Timmy and Katie’s finest zombie soldiers, three of Timmy’s zombie wyverns, and two of the ninja rats. They would have brought more zombies – they did have an entire army of them – but their journey would take them near several large towns. As a general rule, zombies were not something they took near large towns unless they wanted to conquer them. The forest up north where they were headed was even worse. The elves were beyond uptight about what was allowed in. At least Gerald had agreed to do all the paperwork necessary for their small contingent of zombies. Timmy wasn’t worried about rodents with bows, but elves with bows were another story.
Katie tightened her hold on the reins as her horse fidgeted. Her magic spooked normal horses, and they couldn’t bring one of their zombie horses since they needed every zombie they brought to be combat ready. Luckily, she’d been able to bring two of her favourite ninja rats, Rembrandt and Monet. Rembrandt was a black-furred rat that wore an eye-patch and used a sword. Monet was a grey-furred rat that was partial to grappling hooks and bolas. “Let me get this straight, we’re searching for an elf?”
“Yes.” Gerald summoned a folder. “You can read through the files if you want.”
“Or you can let me summarise.” Timmy caught the folder out of the air before Katie could try and snatch it. It was so heavy that she’d probably fall off her horse.
“Give me a break.” Katie rolled her eyes and smirked. “I’ve read everything in your library. I know who and what the elves are.” Her voice took on that lecturing tone she used whenever she wanted Timmy to do something for her. “Everton is one of the strongest and most prosperous kingdoms in the world. One of the reasons for that is the alliance between the Council of Mages and the Elves of Frostwood. These elves have been our allies for hundreds of years, ever since we broke off from the empire. They also protect our western border using magic that manipulates nature and ice.” She frowned, and Rembrandt scooted up onto her shoulder to pat her on the back. “But I have to admit, I don’t know a lot about the elf we’re looking for. But she can’t be that bad, can she?”
Timmy couldn’t resist leaning over to tweak Katie’s nose. His murderous apprentice could be so adorable. Rembrandt reached for his sword, and a shadow came a hair’s breadth from parting Timmy’s nose from his face.
“It must drive you crazy not knowing everything.” Timmy chuckled but then grew serious. “But believe me, she is that bad. My master and I ran into her once when we were trying to get our hands on a frost dragon corpse. We didn’t get the corpse, and we were lucky to escape with our lives.”
Katie winced, and her shadows rippled along the ground. “That is worrying.” Her master was no slouch, and his master had, by all accounts, been something of a monster. Her two rats gave a few comforting squeaks. “Yes, yes, I know you two will help.”
“According to Gerald’s reports, the elves are sick of trying to deal with her. She wiped out the last three groups of mercenaries they sent after her, and she’s sent several patrols worth of elves to the healers. If she’d wanted, they’d all be dead. The last time that they saw her, she was headed north. The elves want us to deal with her before she causes any more damage. It should take us about two weeks to get there.”
“So, she’s really powerful. You still haven’t told us exactly what it is she can do.” Katie made another grab for the folder, but Timmy tossed it back to Gerald. The bureaucrat flicked his wrist, and the folder vanished. “Come on, let me read that!”
“You don’t have to read it.” Timmy took a deep breath and shuddered. “What you can expect from her is fire – a lot of fire, the kind you don’t ever forget, no matter how much time passes.”
They set a good pace before stopping outside a small village for the night. The villagers took one look at them before reaching for their stakes and pitchforks. Gerald put a stop to that. The man had at least fifteen different letters from the Council explaining why they were there, along with ten folders worth of supporting documentation. By the end of his spiel – which went for the better part of an hour – the villagers were too tired and confused to even think of lynching anybody.
With the villagers pacified, it was time to cook dinner. Timmy would have loved to pick up something from the local tavern, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Some of those villagers had seemed awfully comfortable holding those stakes and pitchforks. So it was up to the three of them to make dinner.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Gerald, but how does your magic work?” Katie couldn’t cook to save her life, and Gerald wasn’t much better. That left Timmy and the rats in charge of dinner. He’d opted for stew, and the rats had offered up some surprisingly good seasoning suggestions. “I’ve seen you use it several times, and I still can’t figure out how it works.”
“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you.” Gerald sniffed the air. The stew smelled good. “They might call me an inspector, but I’m really a bureaucrat. I make a living doing paperwork. My magic lets me store things away and then get them back later. That’s how I carry around all my folders and books.”
“Where do all those things go?” Timmy stirred the stew. Rembrandt went to put more salt in before Monet pulled him away. The stew was salty enough. “Is your magic connected to a storeroom or something?”
Gerald poked the fire with a stick. “I don’t know. Things just… go somewhere.”
That sounded harmless, but Timmy knew better. There was no way that the Council would have sent someone completely helpless to negotiate. He didn’t think Gerald’s behaviour was an act, but there had to be more to him than timidity. As for his magic, it was very, very dangerous. If he could store books in there, he could store weapons in there too. Depending on how big an object he could store, Gerald might even have something like a golem tucked away. “That sounds handy.”
“It is.” A rabbit appeared in Gerald’s hand. “I don’t know if that stew will be enough for all three of us, so maybe you could cook this too. I’m not much good at cooking, I’m afraid.”
“I’m not even going to ask why you have a rabbit stored away with that magic of yours.” The rabbit was dead, but it was still fresh. Timmy nodded at Katie, and the girl took the rabbit with her shadows. “I’ll let Katie handle the whole gutting and skinning thing. It will be less messy that way.”
Gerald turned a most amusing shade of green as Katie’s shadows took the fluffy bunny rabbit apart. Timmy almost laughed. No, this couldn’t be an act. Gerald really was squeamish.
It wasn’t long before they had some stew and roast rabbit to eat. Timmy was feeling generous, so he shared some of his with Rembrandt and Monet. If the two rats were going to tag along, he wanted to be on their good side. He’d seen Rembrandt use a sword. The rodent was a heck of a swordsman. After dinner, they tried to bed down for the night. But Katie wasn’t happy about being told to go to bed.
“I am not some child that you can order around.” Katie’s yawn robbed the words of their sting. “It is not too late for me to be awake. I am perfectly capable of staying up late and using my time constructively.”
“You’re ten years old, and that means you’re still a child.” Timmy put his proverbial foot down. “So go to sleep, or you’ll end up short for the rest of your life.”
Katie’s eyes narrowed. The shadows around her trembled, and Timmy caught a vague impression of claws and teeth. But in the end, she backed down. It didn’t help her cause that her rats – those adorable, little traitors – agreed with him. “Fine, but I want a story first, something from when you were with your master, preferably something where you get mangled.”
Timmy refrained from pointing out that only children needed a story before going to bed. He couldn’t stay awake all the time, and Katie was bound to do something if he pushed her too far. “I suppose I could tell you about what happened when my master and I went up against the elf we’re looking for.”
“That would help.” Gerald had changed into a dressing gown. Timmy shook his head. A
dressing gown, seriously? They were camping outside, not staying at some posh inn. “It would be nice to know more about what we’re up against. Saying that she uses fire doesn’t tell us a lot.”
“I thought you’d have all the details in those files of yours.” Gerald flushed, and Timmy snickered. It was nice to know that while the Council knew a lot, they didn’t know everything. “Okay, listen closely. The story I’m about to tell you is a tale of horror and woe.”
Katie tugged her blankets around herself. “You mean like most of the time you spent with your master?”
“Pretty much.” Timmy had plenty of respect for his dead master’s power, but the man had been a jerk. His idea of fun had involved trying to cut Timmy in half, and his favoured method of teaching had involved throwing some zombie parts at Timmy before calling in a monster, usually a hydra. Timmy could either come up with an appropriately powerful zombie or end up dead. “I was seventeen at the time, and my master got into his head that we were going to make a zombie frost dragon, but with a few additions. Naturally, he decided that we should go off and kill one. It would be fresher that way – and cheaper.” Timmy snorted. “He always was a stingy, old codger.”
“What kind of additions?” Katie perked up. Timmy’s master had been a truly unpleasant person, but some of his ideas had been brilliant. The ballista she’d added to her zombie elephant-griffin had been based on one of his designs.
“He wanted to add metal armour and a whole slew of magical enhancements. As you know, frost dragons aren’t very common. They only live in the far north or the far south. And as you can imagine, the elves were not pleased when we turned up in their forest. We were lucky not to become pincushions.” Timmy sighed. “My master was quite handy with a blade, but a blade only helps so much when you’ve got hundreds of elves shooting arrows at you. Somehow, we managed to get past them and head further north. It took us two weeks to find a frost dragon, but we weren’t the only ones after it.”
Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Elf Page 4
