Two Necromancers, a Dwarf Kingdom, and a Sky City

by L. G. Estrella

  “I believe it’s the most polite way to put it,” Old Man drawled as they continued toward the archives. More bodies fell out of the sky, and screams of panic filled the compound. Guards were running everywhere, and Gerald could hear the roar of combat magic as the compound’s mages tried to drive Avraniel back.

  “She’s a demon!” someone screamed as Avraniel’s mad laughter echoed through the air. She was screaming something about killing them all and taking their stuff, and if Gerald really tried, he could just make out the equally mad squeaking of the demolition rats as they added their own weaponry and magic to the pyrotechnical mix. “She has to be!”

  “Hit her with everything!” someone else wailed. “Don’t let up! She can’t fight all of us at once!”

  “Fire!” another man screamed. “Set her on fire!”

  “Fire isn’t helping!” The ground shook as another explosion lit the night. Bits of melting masonry rained down around them. “It’s only making her stronger!”

  “Well,” Old Man said. “I doubt we’ll get a better chance than this. Let’s go.”

  Gerald chanced a quick look back at the courtyard. All he could see was a vast ocean of fire as ash began to spread on the breeze. Avraniel stood at the centre of the devastation, laughing merrily as the growing inferno leapt and danced to the beating of her heart. Her cloak of phoenix feathers shone in the flames, and her eyes blazed like golden stars. If Avraniel had fought like this when he, Timmy, and Katie had first run into her, then he doubted he’d be worrying about paperwork, and Timmy and Katie wouldn’t be worrying about earning pardons. They’d be dead.

  “I think you’re right.” Gerald shuddered. “And the further we get from what’s happening back there, the better off we’ll be.”

  The archives were located in a large, squat building that likely extended deep underground. Old Man drew his sword and sliced through the building’s heavy reinforced doors with a single fluid strike. Runes and seals flared to life only to die just as quickly before a stout kick knocked the ruined doors off their hinges. They stepped into the building, and the ninja rats’ invisibility faded as the walls, floor, and ceiling lit up with magic. Gerald laughed nervously. This place was absolutely covered in magical defences, so there had to be important things in here. No sane person would have invested this much time and energy unless there were things in here worth defending. To make matters worse, there were still guards around. The guards gaped at them for a long moment and then burst into motion.

  “Stop right there!” one of the guards roared. “You’re not allowed in here!”

  “Yet here we are,” Old Man replied. Several runes and seals began to flash, and he lashed out with his sword. The magic fizzled before it could do anything, and Gerald took a step back. This was the part where he did his best not to get killed while everyone else handled the fighting. “I would ask you to stand aside, but you seem like dutiful men. I doubt you would.” He raised his sword in a quick salute. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Get them!”

  The guards charged as Old Man and the rats moved forward to meet them. Despite his age, Old Man moved with the ease and grace of a man decades younger. A single slash dropped the first guard to reach him before he stepped neatly to one side to avoid a thrust aimed at his chest. His reply cut his opponent in half before he darted forward to cut down three more guards in quick succession, the swordsman far too fast for the unfortunate guards to fend off. Around him, the rats were wreaking havoc, their small, deadly forms blurring from one opponent to the next as they wielded their tiny weaponry to lethal effect.

  “They certainly are efficient,” Gerald murmured as he watched the devastation unfold. He’d never realised how many weak spots armour had until he’d seen the rats in action. What they lacked in size and strength, they more than made up for in speed and precision. Even helmets wouldn’t keep their opponents safe. The ninja rats knew exactly how to slip their tiny weapons through the gaps necessary for breathing and vision. More guards poured in from the other end of the corridor, and Gerald grimaced. That was a lot of guards. How many did this compound have? “Should I summon some of the zombies Timmy gave me?” he asked the rat who had remained perched on his shoulder in case anyone got past Old Man and the others.

  The rat – who went by the name of Matisse – specialised in defensive magic, which was why he’d been chosen to hang back with Gerald. On the off chance that something got past Old Man and the other rats, he should be able to keep Gerald alive long enough for help to arrive. The rodent studied the situation intently before nodding.

  “Are you sure?” Gerald asked. The ninja rat nodded again and then explained his reasoning. “You’re right. We don’t know what’s ahead of us. It wouldn’t be good if we got tired this early in the mission.”

  The air beside him shimmered as several of Timmy’s elite zombie warriors appeared. Each of the hulking zombies was seven feet tall and weighed more than three hundred pounds. They wore finely crafted armour and wielded broadswords and tower shields of similar quality. As the newly arrived guards hurled themselves into the fray, Gerald ordered the zombie warriors to advance.

  The first clump of guards to reach them went flying as the zombie warriors used their huge shields as clubs. Their swords came into play a moment later. They didn’t have Old Man’s technique, but they were absurdly strong. Gerald cringed as blood splattered everywhere. Thankfully, he’d been quick enough to summon an umbrella to ward off the worst of it. He might have to summon a different pair of boots too. The floor was bound to be slippery with so much blood on it.

  “Okay.” Gerald took a deep breath to calm down and immediately regretted it. The air was heavy with the smell of blood and gore. A paper bag appeared in his hands, but he managed to keep himself from losing his dinner, if only just. He really shouldn’t have had dinner until after the mission, and he needed to stand further back the next time the zombie warriors fought.

  One guard somehow managed to get past the zombie warriors, but he was so intent on avoiding the zombie-wrought carnage that he didn’t notice Gerald until the bureaucrat whacked him over the head with his frying pan. To his credit, the other man staggered but managed to stay on his feet. A single well-placed needle covered in poison from Matisse did the rest. Suddenly, a hidden door opened in the middle of the corridor, and Gerald was tempted to rub his eyes as even more guards appeared. How could there still be this many guards left after so many of them had run off to fight Avraniel? It must cost an absolute fortune to keep them around.

  “Gerald,” Old Man said as he calmly impaled one guard and then turned to relieve another of his head. A dagger hurtled toward him, but he caught it out of the air and sent it back to its owner. Sadly, the other fellow wasn’t able to catch the weapon before it lodged in his throat. “If you have some oil, now would be a great time to use it.”

  “Oil?” Gerald blinked. Oh! The passageway that had opened up had a lot of stairs – and oil and stairs did not mix well. The air beside him parted to reveal several flasks of oil. He opened them and tossed the contents toward the stairs. The oncoming guards immediately slipped, and those behind them tripped over their comrades. In a matter of moments, there were more than a dozen heavily armoured men struggling mightily to get back to their feet.

  A nearby ninja rat cackled malevolently, and Gerald frowned. That was one of the demolition rats. He’d assumed they’d all stayed with Avraniel, but it did make sense for a couple of them to come along with him and Old Man. There was no telling when they might need something blown up. Eyes alight with the sort of malevolent glee that would have looked more appropriate on an evil dragon, the rat conjured a small, wavering flame and set the oil alight. Gerald looked away as the passageway turned into a bonfire. Technically, he wasn’t the one who’d set them alight, but still…

  The seemingly endless ranks of guards had finally begun to thin, and they were about to continue down the corridor when there was a blur of motion and a sound like thunde
r. Old Man appeared in front of him, and Gerald could only gape in confused amazement as shattered wood filled the corridor around them. It had all happened too fast for him to see. What was going on?

  “My master did not invite you here.”

  Gerald’s gaze snapped to the mage at the far end of the corridor. He wore a mottled green and brown cloak over a tunic and trousers of the same peculiar design. At first glance, Gerald thought he might be an elf, but his ears were only slightly longer than normal, which meant he was likely a half-elf. What truly caught the bureaucrat’s attention were the tree roots and vines that had grown along the corridor. In a matter of seconds, they had ripped through the walls, floor, and ceiling, and the pieces of a particularly large and spiky root lay scattered around them.

  That sound – Old Man must have teleported in front of him and destroyed the root before it could hit him. Gerald felt queasy. It had happened too quickly for him to perceive, but he would almost certainly be dead if not for Old Man. The enemy mage gestured with one hand, and the remaining guards retreated behind him. The half-elf had already transformed the corridor into a miniature forest. His next attack could easily kill anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the middle of it.

  “You have done well against these guards, but they are mere foot soldiers. Their enthusiasm – although admirable – does not match their power.” The enemy mage walked forward, and with each step he took, more roots, vines, and branches spread through the corridor. “The same, however, does not apply to me. But I have other concerns – like that maniac outside, so I will give you one last chance. Leave or die.”

  Gerald had to admit the offer was tempting. If he was on his own he’d definitely have taken it. Fighting someone who could create so much wood and vegetation in a matter of moments was an awful idea. At the very least, he wanted to go back and get Avraiel. Her fire should be able to stop someone who relied on plants to fight, right?

  “I appreciate the offer.” Old Man inclined his head. “But we are not leaving until we have what we want. Allow me to make an offer of my own. Your devotion to your master is certainly worthy of praise although your master if unworthy of such loyalty. Stand aside. Our quarrel is with him, not with you.”

  “No.” The enemy mage’s green eyes blazed with emerald light. “My master has ordered me to stop any and all intruders. I will deal with you first and then the elf outside.”

  “What your master wants and what he’ll get are two very different things.” Old Man grinned. “And you should consider yourself lucky. Our friend outside doesn’t believe in pre-combat pleasantries. She’d have set you alight halfway through your offer.”

  “Is that so?” The half-elf’s magic surged, and the corridor undulated and writhed. Roots, branches, and vines thrashed, tearing through stone with terrifying ease. “How arrogant. Fire may burn regular wood and plants, but my magic is far beyond such things.”

  “Brace yourself.” Old Man’s sword was a blur of motion. The oncoming tide of wood and vegetation disintegrated. “This is about to get a little uncomfortable.”

  Gerald opened his mouth to reply, but his words turned into a terrified wail as the floor beneath them gave way. An enormous branch ripped up through the floor and smashed through the ceiling, carrying them out of the building and into the fire-lit night. He would have fallen, but Matisse was there to catch him with some wire. The other rats arrived, and they hauled Gerald to safety as the bureaucrat and the swordsman suddenly found themselves high above the compound atop a growing tower of interlocked branches, some of which were thicker than a man was tall. Gerald fought the urge to scream. How were they supposed to fight someone who could create a giant tree out of nothing?

  “Stay calm,” Old Man urged Gerald. More branches lanced toward them, and the swordsman calmly reduced them to kindling before turning to slash at their opponent who had arrived on a branch of his own. Space bent and tore, and the blow, which shouldn’t have had any chance whatsoever of reaching a target more than fifty feet away, carved a huge gash in the maze of interlocked branches as some vines yanked the half-elf out of the way. “Hmm… his control is impressive.”

  Gerald looked down. He sucked in a deep breath. He shouldn’t have looked down. They were more than a hundred feet over the ground, and the tree was still growing. A single step in the wrong direction would send him plummeting to his death, and their opponent still wasn’t done. The largest branches had begun to spawn branches of their own, and dozens of those smaller branches were now pointed their way. At this rate, the enemy mage could simply overwhelm them. They’d either be impaled or forced to fall to their deaths.

  So Gerald did the only thing he could think of.

  “Help!” Gerald screamed. “Avraniel, help!” He waved down at the ground. “We’re up here! Help us! Help!”

  Not far away, Old Man sighed and spun to cut down the next wave of branches. This was beginning to get dangerous. For every branch he destroyed, there were another two to take its place. At this rate, he might have to pull out some of his more… destructive techniques. But there were something that puzzled him. It would have been far easier to kill them using branches grown from right under their feet. Was their opponent simply toying with them? No. He didn’t seem like the type to do that, so there must be a reason why he was growing branches at a distance and then launching them at him and Gerald. Perhaps their magic was interfering with the half-elf’s control. It would explain why he was keeping his distance.

  Another piercing wail left Gerald’s lips, and Old Man winced. It should not be possible for a human to scream that loudly and at such a high pitch. Oh well. At least, their opponent was suffering too. The half-elf had clamped his hands over his ears in a desperate bid to protect them from Gerald’s shrieking.

  * * *

  Avraniel blasted another guard and then turned to stare. Was that a giant tree sticking out of one of the buildings? Her eyes narrowed. And was that Old Man and Gerald on it with some of the rats?

  “Help! Avraniel, help!” Yep. That was the paper pusher, all right. He was screaming again, and he’d somehow managed to get even louder since their last mission. It made her wonder if screaming was actually part of his magic or something. No normal person should be able to scream like that. “We’re up here! Help us! Help!”

  One of the demolition rats hopped onto her shoulder. The mantle of flames around her allowed the rodent to pass through unharmed. It had taken her years to hone her control this finely, but not setting her makeshift home alight when she’d lived in the forest had been one of her top priorities – along with not incinerating her clothes. It was tough enough finding decent clothes and a nice place to live with those damn elves hunting her all the time, so ruining her clothes and her home whenever she had to defend herself would have made it impossible to get by. The rodent squeaked quickly before turning to flick a small explosive at an approaching guard. The armoured man hurtled back, a hole blown right through the breastplate of his armour. Not bad. Rather than making a bigger explosion, the explosive was designed to focus the explosion it created in a specific direction.

  “What are you talking about? I’m sure they’ll be fine. Old Man is there. He might be an old geezer, but he can handle some stupid tree.” The rat squeaked again, and Avraniel rolled her eyes. “Fine. I suppose we can give them a little help.” She drew one arm back, and a torrent of fire condensed into a roiling sphere of heat in her palm. “But after this, we’re hitting the treasury or something.” She eyed the carnage around them with disdain. Not a single one of the guards or mages had put up a decent fight. “Because this is getting boring.”

  * * *

  Gerald’s frantic wailing did not go unanswered. Avraniel unleashed a titanic blast of fire that turned almost half of the magically enhanced tree to ash. The remaining half began to list alarmingly to one side, and more wood erupted from the building below them in a bid to steady it. Clinging onto the branch beneath him for dear life, Gerald could only watch as Old Man
and their opponent played a bizarre game of tag. He wished some of Timmy’s elite zombie warriors had survived, but none of them were responding. They must have been destroyed during the tree’s expansion.

  The half-elf wasn’t only capable of using vines to pull him around. He could actually move through the wood he’d created, and he was using that ability to keep one step ahead of Old Man as the swordsman steadily cut his way through a seemingly endless forest of vines, branches, and other vegetation. Whenever Old Man got close enough to strike a potentially deadly blow, the enemy mage would vanish into the wood around him, only to reappear elsewhere. Old Man would then go after him, either teleporting over or simply moving with incredible speed.

  It felt like a stalemate. The half-elf’s attacks couldn’t get past Old Man’s blade, but Old Man couldn’t land a blow to end the fight. He’d gotten close on several occasions, and each miss carved huge furrows in the colossal tree or unleashed havoc on their surroundings. One missed strike sliced a nearby building in half, and another left a massive trench in the courtyard below. The rats were doing their best to help, but they couldn’t keep up with the blinding pace the two main combatants had set.

  “This isn’t working.” Old Man reappeared next to Gerald, and the bureaucrat gave a startled yelp and nearly tumbled off the branch. Thankfully, Old Man reached out to steady him. “I could use one of my stronger attacks, but I don’t want to risk destroying the archives.” His blade swept out to annihilate another wave of incoming branches. Shards of shredded wood hurtled past them. “I don’t suppose you have any herbicide, Gerald? I suspect our opponent is using his magic to enhance the growth of the tree. Herbicide should thus take effect far more quickly than usual.”