《Necromancer's Knight: a Light in Death》


 Ch. 1: Rebirth, Death, and Departure

    It was dark, pitch black. Where am I? Where was I last? I died. Am I still dead? A light so dim, yet so blindingly bright to me appeared in a vertical line. The line grew wider and wider, all until the stone slab above my coffin was completely removed. I removed it, I lifted it, without even willing it. And my body continued to move until it was outside of the crypt.


    It was night, but there was a full moon. And a little girl in front of me. She clutched a black book to her chest as if it were the last thing she had left in this world. I''ve heard stories of this, I imagined the possibility, but I never thought it would happen to me.


    Tears streaked down her cheeks. She choked the words out. "Please, save my papa!"


    I looked around. That seemed to be permitted. In the distance, there was a raging fire. It engulfed a village. My body willed itself to move in that direction. It started as a walk, and then it became a full on sprint. My armor and sword were still on me. They clanged as I ran. It felt somewhat nostalgic, charging into battle. But this time was different. There was no fear, no excitement. I would not die. I was already dead.


    In the village center, a man was tied to a pillar, below him was a pile of branches and twigs. Surrounding the man was a retinue of five knights dressed in identical white tabards with the symbol of the order, a dragon. These bastards again.


    One of them was about to set the man on fire when another saw me.


    "What have we here?" he declared. The others turned around, to me. "I knew it! I bloody knew it! A necromancer!" He wasn''t wrong. But this is going too far, to kill so many for the one.


    I tried to speak but I could not. My body moved itself, closer to the man on the pillar.


    "Step back, foul abomination!" They blocked my path and aimed their swords at me.


    I''m going to enjoy this.


    I stepped forward once more. They then spread out and surrounded me. A common but effective tactic.


    The first to swing was the crier. It was a long drawn out motion. It was easy to intercept and swat away. His sword flew out of his hand and onto the ground behind him. As he stood dumbfounded, with his arm still held up from his initial attempt to attack, I charged forward and slamming the flat end of my blade into his chest. He flew backwards and fell to the ground.


    Fighting with swords and armor was tricky business. Swords were slashing weapons, likely only to bounce or break off of the steel plates of armor. What I need is a mace.


    Four left. I was constantly darting my head left and right, watching for who would make the next move.


    One shouted to their fallen comrade, "Oi, get up, Ornstein!"


    Ornstein was writhing on the ground with an arm held up against his chest.


    "Damn it!" There was a tinge of fear and frustration in his voice, as if he was unable to accept what had just transpired, as if he never could have imagined it in his wildest dreams. It was a restless, defiant shout. He charged at me in a fury with his sword held back, ready to swing.


    But before he could, I stepped forward and slashed at his held up wrist.


    "Aughhhh!" He dropped his sword, knelt down, and clutched his wrist with his good hand.


    It was by no means possible to cut his hand off through the armor, but he wouldn''t be able to use it for at least a week.


    Seeing their dwindling numbers, the rest lost all control and attacked. Their motions were stiff and their stances were nonexistent. These men were either new recruits or wildly inept. The battle was tedious. No one was going to die because of the protection our armor offered. It was just a beating. I would simply keep on hitting them with the flat end of my blade. And on the rare occasion when they would hit me, I wouldn''t feel it at all. I mean, I could feel that something hit me, but no pain registered.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    The last one still conscious begged, "I give, I give! Please, don''t kill me!"


    I knocked him out. I had no intention of killing them once I realized how little fight they actually had in them. But what happens if I leave them alive? What are the chances they come after the girl? Would they know her father had a daughter? They were able to find the father somehow. Can I take the chance?


    Systematically, I removed the helmets of each knight and slit their throats.


    Someone stood in the corner of my vision. I turned my head. It was the girl. How long has she been there? She looked at all the dead men, horror mixed with panic in her eyes. Then at the man tied to the pillar, her father, with eyes of relief, of joy. Intent on releasing him, her father, she threw her book aside, rushed past the dead, and started undoing his ropes.


    Once free, he began to fall. He could not stand. His daughter dutifully rushed underneath to catch him. But before she could attempt to bear the weight, my body rushed over and caught him . I could not tell if that action was voluntary or not.


    He lay resting, his back against the very bonfire that was meant to kill him. He still breathed, but was unconscious. There were bruises and cuts all over his body. Blood streaked down him from head to toe.


    "Papa, wake up!" she implored while clutching his hand with both of hers. I wanted to tell her that he needs his rest, that she should leave him be, but I could not.


    His eyes opened slowly. His voice was coarse and quiet. "Maggie, is that you?" The space between the wordswas long, as if it took all his might to utter a single syllable.


    She tightened her grip, inched closer to his face, and said excitedly, "Yes, it''s me, Papa!"


    He looked at me. "My god, you''ve done it. Where I always failed." He looked back at her. "You need to run, get out of here. They''ll come for you."


    She said with pure intention and nothing else, "What about you?"


    "My sweet girl, I cannot come with you. My journey ends here. Travel east from here, in the direction of the graveyard, follow that road until you meet an inn. There should still be some money in the hut. If it''s still on fire send in your friend. If it''s done burning then still send him in, it could collapse at any second. If there''s no money there then search those knights. I know death is scary. I know that. But it''s not the end." He took one last, long breath. "I''ll always be with you." And like that, he lost all of his strength, his hand slipping from his daughter''s grasp, his neck falling to his side, and his eyes, closed.


    I couldn''t see her eyes, as I stood beside her, vigil. But her head did not move. I don''t think she could process what just happened.


    "Wake up, Papa! Wake up! Please, please wake up!" She gripped onto his shirt with both her hands, buried her head in his chest, and began to cry and wail, endlessly. "No, please, please, please. Don''t leave..." I could do nothing but watch.


    It was hours before she would leave that spot.


    In the end, she returned to her home. It was burned to a crisp, the walls and ceiling did collapse. I doubt there was anything left. She had me search anyway, though. I found a jar filled with mostly copper coins, and some silver.


    When we returned to the town center, she just stood there, motionless, as if she was unsure of what to do next. Perhaps she wanted to bury her father, give him a proper rest, but she also wanted to respect and heed his last words. Perhaps she was debating whether she should pilfer from those knights of the order. On one end it was sacrilegious to steal from the dead, but on the other, they practically killed her father.


    She turned her head to me, tilted it upward until her eyes reached mine, and said, "loot them." I had no qualms with it. It was only natural to use whatever you could, as weapons and shields were liable to bend and break during the heat of battle. And Some men would always compare and gloat over who had obtained the greatest treasure afterward. Ah, those were the days.


    We couldn''t carry any of their weapons or armor, so all that happened was the money jar got a little, no, a lot fuller.


    And then we did as her father instructed, we traveled on the east road. She continued to clutch the black book against her chest. And I held the jar. As we passed my crypt, she stopped. Then she entered it and left with a helmet in her hand. She raised it up, at me. I took and equipped it. It would be bestif people didn''t know I was what I was.After a while of walking, she started to slow down. I wanted to tell her I could carry her, but I could not. After another hour or so of walking, she collapsed. She was still breathing. Must have just been tired. It must have been a long night for her. I knelt down, scooped her up, cradled her in my arms, and continued to walk. That seemed to be permitted. She still held that book against her chest. It was the last thing she had left in this world.

 Ch. 2

    It was dawn when I came upon a small town. There was a waist-tall fence surrounding its perimeter and a few buildings that were taller than one story. The entrance was denoted by the continuation of the road into the town; none stood guard. As I walked through, I got a few curious looks - some at me, some at the girl, and some at my sword - but none said anything out loud. I continued until I found an inn.


    She started to stir when I entered it. She blinked her eyes, adjusting them, and looked around the inn, confused, then looked up at me. Her face flushed red. She started to shake her legs up and down and flail around. I bent down, opened my arms, and she urgently stepped onto the floor. Was she already at that age, to be embarrassed by being carried around?


    She then took my hand, turned me around, and walked me outside of the inn. My body would have followed you anyway. She continued walking me and said, "No one will take me seriously if you carry me around like a kid." You are a kid. No one will take you seriously regardless.


    She walked around until we were in front of a general store; Birk''s Best. She released my hand and walked into the store. I followed. When we were at the counter, the clerk addressed me, "Hello, what can I do for you today?"


    I said nothing.


    He repeated and tilted his head quizzically, "Hello?"


    "Ahem." She coughed professionally into a held up fist.


    "Ah, yes, little miss, what is it?"


    "My name''s Margaret and this is my uncle Galahad. He was caught in a fire a couple years ago, it burned his throat so he can''t talk, and his skin is horribly burned, so he never takes off his armor." Oh, she knows my name?


    "I see, so I''ll be doing business with you today?"


    "Indeed." She smiled and puffed out her chest proudly.


    Good job.


    We left Birk''s Best with two backpacks (a smaller one for her and a larger one for me), a sleeping bag, a black cloak for her (she didn''t like the color or the style, but it was all they had in stock for her size), a map, other essential provisions for traveling, and a lighter jar. I was worried she would waste money buying me a sleeping bag or cloak, but I was relieved when she didn''t.


    Instead of returning to the inn, we left the town through the east road. As I walked beside her, she said, "You know, I couldn''t believe it, when you left that tomb. I know Papa thought I did something amazing. But I barely did anything. It was all his work. Everything in this book." She held up the book, proudly showing it to me. "If it weren''t for him, you and I wouldn''t be here." Her eyes glazed over and she smiled a half smile, as if she were remembering something nice. And when it was over, she looked back at me. "I''m not sure if you can understand me - I mean, anything other than my orders."


    I can.


    "But even if you can''t, I''m going to talk anyway. I don''t know how you feel about being... this. Do you hate it? Do you think it''s an insult to your life? Do you hate being ordered around by a little girl?"


    I was glad.


    "I don''t know how to undo the spell... I''m sure you would rather be free of me, of this curse I placed on you."


    I''m fine.


    "But you see, the thing is," She sighed, as if she weren''t sure of anything anymore. "I''m scared, and I think I need you."


    I know.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation."Please don''t hate me."


    I don''t.


    Her eyes started to tear up. Margaret said, as if she thought she was stupid to even attempt to speak with me, "Right, so you can''t understand me, of course."


    I''m sorry.


    She wiped her eyes with her sleeve.


    Suddenly, an empty rumbling reverberated. It was her stomach. It must have been some time since her last meal. We were still close, so we turned around, back in the direction of the small town.


    The two of us sat in a table at the inn, on opposite sides. The first floor doubled as a check in area and restaurant. She stored the book in her backpack when we sat down. The waitress asked us what we wanted. And Margaret repeated the same spiel she told to Birk. I didn''t get anything of course, and she got a stew of some sort. She seemed to be enjoying it well enough, not scooping it down, but not cringing at its taste either. Margaret raised up a spoonful again, then she dropped it in her bowl, splashing a bit of stew. Her eyes widened wildly. I turned around. There were two knights in full plate armor, and white tabards with the symbol of the order of the purifying pyre, a dragon, at the front desk. How did they find us so quickly? Wait, I don''t even know if they know to look for us. Margaret took some coins from the jar in her backpack, threw them on the table, got up, and left. I followed. I don''t think they saw us. There were two horses tied to the outdoor posts of the inn. So that''s how.


    We returned back to the east road. After a couple hours of walking, it didn''t seem like they were following us. We stopped at a crossroads. There was a signpost for each of the four directions. I didn''t think it meant much for us; I thought we were going east. However, she still took her time in reading it, and compared it to the map. She was about to say, "We''re going -" when an agonizing cry came from the forest northwest of us, that is to say, northeast.


    Immediately, she lowered her map and darted her head in its direction. This is giving me a bad feeling. She said, "We should check it out." She left the road and went into the grass, in the direction of the shout. This could be a trap. I''m pretty sure there was a monster that could mimic human sounds.


    As we got closer, another noise emerged: a roar. She started to run. How am I supposed to protect you if you willingly walk into fire.


    She stopped behind the shrubbery at the outskirts of the forest, peering past them to see what lay ahead. The shouts came from a man, or on second thought, a boy. No, that wasn''t quite right either. He was as short as a boy, but his proportions were that of a man... A halfling! His foot was stuck in a bear trap and he was shouting, "For Enalla''s sake, would one of you get me out of this thing already!" He clutched his trapped leg with both hands, as if the pain were immeasurable.


    Two other figures were a little away, with a raging brown bear between them, swatting at the two ferociously. One had a sword and shield, wore leathers greaves and vambraces, and a steel cuirass across his chest. The other one was waving around a dagger, with a bow on his back and a quiver hanging from his belt. Both were human, or at least looked to be. The archer shouted back, "We''re a little busy here! How did you even step in the bear trap!? I showed you the map yesterday!"


    The halfling tried with all his might, topry open the bear trap''s bite. "My memory of a map doesn''t do shit against a rampaging behemoth on my tail!"


    The armored fellow ducked below a bear slash and said, "Behemoth!? You''re overreacting! It''s not like we''re dealing with an ogre!"


    "I''m half as tall as you guys! A bear is an ogre to me!"


    Margaret turned to me - don''t say it, please don''t say it - and said with steel determination in her eyes, "We have to help them." And you say it. She pointed in their direction and declared, "Save them!"

 Ch. 3

    Immediately, I darted through the bushes, into the forest, past the trapped halfling, - save them, there''s only one way - tackled the archer, got her over my left shoulder, bypassed the bear until I was next to the armored fellow, held out my right arm in front of him in a halting motion, and then with my same hand, knocked hard on my chestplate. The noise reverberated throughout the forest.


    The most direct way to stop the encounter. Two of them had pinned it between them, intent on killing it. And since beasts don''t attack people unless they''re provoked, simply by offering it an escape route - that was the only way to save them, the quickest way to eliminate the danger. A full on attack would have only enraged it more, elongating the fight, making it more likely for someone to get killed. But it might be too late to scare it away. It might be too angry.


    The bear''s head was still darting left and right, expecting the archer to still be there, but upon seeing that she no longer was, became confused. And then after hearing my knocking, and turning to look at me, ran away in the opposite direction, where the archer had been.


    The archer, armored fellow, and halfling all had the same faces, asking what just happened and who the hell I was simultaneously.


    "Um, could you let me down?" asked the archer. I let her down. "Thanks."


    Then Margaret ran over, looking ecstatic from her face and pace. "That was amazing! It all happened in a moment! I couldn''t believe it!"


    "What the - who the - what just happened?" asked the armored fellow who was still processing everything.


    "Could someone please get me out of this thing already?" asked the halfling, still trapped in the bear trap.


    A command, it was like a constant beckoning behind my back, a whisper that would not stop until it was fulfilled. But always in the back of my mind. Could I refuse a command? Would the beckoning get stronger, the whisper louder? Would it hurt? At least I could still decide how to fulfill it. At least I had that.


    The armored fellow sheathed his sword, placed his shield on his back, and went off to free his halfling companion. He called, "Hey, Serena, help me out with this." The two of them released the halfling from his binding. "Can you walk," asked the armored fellow.


    "I''ll try," replied the halfling. With clear trepidation on his face, he slowly descended his toes to the ground, and then eventually the whole weight of his foot. No expression of pain appeared on his face, no, instead it was one of amused disbelief. He stepped again, then again, and it became a dance. "I feel fine! I feel fine!"


    "Aren''t you at least bleeding?!"


    "Don''t sound so disappointed!" said the halfling still dancing with glee.


    The halfling''s leg must have been just between the teeth as it bit down on him. How lucky.


    After everything had calmed down, the three of them came to meet the two of us. The humans were Soren and Serena, and the halfling''s name was Perrin.


    And then Soren asked who we were, more specifically, he asked me. When I said nothing, he seemed to misunderstand. "Hey, I asked you who you are!" His face got closer to mine, menace clear in his eyes, either anxious to prove himself or actually looking for a fight. Margaret cut in, "I''m sorry, my uncle can''t speak. He was caught in a fire a couple years ago, his throat and skin were badly burned. So he can''t talk and he always wears his armor. My name is Margaret, and his is Gallahad."


    Serena said, "No, I''m sorry for my brother. It''s a great honor to meet a knight." She bowed and jabbed her brother''s side, prompting him to follow. There was conflict written on his face, sullen though it was, there was then an admittance of what was proper as being proper. And so he bowed as well. "If I may ask, what takes a knight and his niece on the road in these parts?" She addressed Margaret.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report."Uhhh, my uncle isn''t a knight anymore, he doesn''t serve under a lord. He only wears the armor now out of habit and to cover his skin."


    Perrin chimed in, "Why isn''t he a knight anymore?"


    Serena pulled Perrin back by the scruff of his neck, until they were behind a tree a little away, and hissed, "You don''t ask why a man is no longer a knight! Something serious must have happened for a knight to lose their title."


    He hissed back, "Jeez, how was I supposed to know! We Hin don''t exactly have your sensitive social hierarchies!"


    "Just don''t bring it up again!"


    "Okay, okay!" The two returned, and Perrin apologized, though his face showed he wasn''t completely sure as to why.


    Margaret asked, "What are you guys doing here?"


    Serena opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, Soren interjected, "We were hunting that bear, and we had him right where we wanted before you two showed up." He said you two, but he pointed his accusatory finger at me. Serena nudged him in the gut again, this time hard enough for him to recoil in pain. "What was that for?!"


    "We were pinned in a corner! You know if one of us were hit, no, even grazed by one of those swipes, we would have been goners, or at the very least, in critical condition. The plan was for me to shoot a vital organ from far away, not face it head to head in an all out brawl!"


    "We could have taken it! Didn''t you see me dodge its swing?"


    "You were lucky!"


    The bother sister duo continued to bicker.


    "Are they always like that, " asked Margaret.


    Perrin said, "All the time. But don''t worry about them. They''ll tire each other out eventually. You know what I could go for right now?"


    "What?" replied Margaret


    "Lunch." said Perrin while rubbing his stomach with longing.


    Margaret and I were now at the three''s camp. It was deeper in the forest, in a clearing. They had set up their tents around a campfire and over that fire hung a pot of their lunch.


    While the four ate, Serena was explaining why they were hunting the bear to Margaret. "You see, we can sell the pelt and meat for a good amount of coin, but here''s the kicker, someone also filed a subjugation request for it at the Adventurer''s Guild." The three were some sort of bounty hunters. But instead of hunting strictly people, they did whatever requests were taken in by their guild. "And there was no note saying they required the materials, so it''s a double win. If it''s alright with your uncle and you, you could help us with the quest. Sir Gallahad looks like he''d be helpful in a pinch. Of course we''d share the reward evenly." Soren made a look of such disbelief and indignation, but said nothing.


    "We would love to, but we''re actually already going somewhere," That''s right. You tell them. We have more important things to be doing than helping this lot with their day job.


    "That''s a shame, we could have really used the help in carrying the meat and pelt to Antimony too."


    "Wait, you''re going to Antimony?"


    "Uh, that''s right, why?" Yeah, why.


    "That''s where we''re going too. On second thought, we''ll help you out." Wait, what?


    We returned to where we first encountered the bear. Then went in the direction of where it ran off, changing direction once again when Serena noted some tracks. We found it, drinking from a stream. The water rushed forth, foaming between the loose stones that protruded out of it. Moss had grown atop the stones, where the water could never reach. It was the same emerald green moss that permeated throughout the forest, painting a picture of wild, unrestrained growth all over. And the sounds; of the stream, accompanied by the wildlife of the forest; chirps, crackles of twigs, and theskitter of small critters as they brushed past loose greenery.


    As it was, the beast looked like such a serene creature. As it was, it was a still and silent thing, making the memories of that thrashing, roaring beast seem almost impossible. It made me feel wrong to hunt and kill it. But I knew that its death would have meaning. Its meat would be used to nourish, its fur would be used to warm. In a sense, I honored it. When we were boys, it was a right of passage. We were all taught it. Though it did take me longer to learnthan I''d like to admit.


    Serena nocked an arrow and drew her string, an unflinching focus in her eyes.

 Ch. 4

    And she loosed her arrow.


    Its mark made true, piercing it in the side, up the center of the side of its front leg and just behind the shoulder bone, right around where the lungs would be situated. If the arrowdidpierce the lungs, then it would be dead in minutes.


    But until then - the bear lifted its head from the stream, tilted its nose upward, sniffed a few sniffs, andjerkedits head, toward us. And it began; it charged at us, and Icharged rightback.


    The moment, it seemed slow, almost sluggish, everything stopped. But in the very next moment, it was upon me, and I it. The beast was lunging at me; its canines bared in full force; its jaw opened tall enough to fit an entire head, my head, and the black abyss that was the other end of its mouth, terrifying.


    The beast''s face was snarled. Its eyes vengeful. And I was afraid, but more than that, I was sad. No, that is what it means to kill. To feel all of these things, and then nothing. I choose to do this, I choose to kill.


    As its weight was about toovertake mine, I leaped and rolled to the right.The beast wouldn''t be able to make a quick turn atits speed. And asthe beast lunged through the air where I had been, I slashed at its side. Got to keep its attention while it''s in its death throes.


    Right when it landed, the beast jerked its head, and lunged at me while swiping with its right paw. The arc of the swing was too wide, and the speed, too fast. I wouldn''t be able to get out of the way in time. But I did have enough time for one thing, I could take the hit. My elbows were already close to my sides. I was ready for this. Spread my stance, lower my center of gravity. I held my sword in front of me, one hand on the hilt, the other on the blade, in front of where the paw would hit me, spread out the force of impact. And breathe out.


    It hit myblade, flinging my body backward,slamming my backintoa tree trunk. Oh god, it - it didn''t hurt. Right, of course.


    I lifted my head to see the beast turning away from me. Did it think I was dead? I lunged back at it!


    This continued on for a few minutes, until the bear suddenly slowed and slumped down on the ground. Its massive body lay motionless; it was dead.


    Everyone gathered around it, except Margaret, who came running at me, looking me up and down, and even climbing up my back. I heard a sigh of relief from somewhere above my shoulders. There''s no need to worry. I took the hit well and my sword and armor are as tough as can be.They were specially made.


    Serena went closer; she laid her ear against the bear''s body, then raised its eyelid, revealing alifelesseye. After a satisfied look, she told us we needed to drag it to the stream to clean it. After we did, we turnedthe bearon its backside. She leaned over it and reached for something that was behind her back, but only grabbed at air.


    "I need my skinning knife, and paper to wrap the meat."


    We went back to the camp for the supplies and returned. Serena carved open its belly and legs and arms, then removed the gallbladder - a pouch of bile and stink that would ruin the meat if cut while still in the carcass - and the other organs. Now that those were out of her way, she could start removing the actual meat. After 30 minutes of cutting, sawing, lifting (with the help of Soren), and wrapping the meat, Serena finished up the skinning, removing the fat that connected the skin to the carcass.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The skin was rolled up, and the packets of meat were all put in a sack. Serena was saying something about having Soren and I carry it together by tying it in the middle of a stick, but when I casually slung it behind my back, she said, "Uh, never mind." and focused her attention on the next task, "Let''s pack up camp and head back to the road. We should be able to make good progress before nightfall."


    And so we walked. Soren and Perrin were ahead, talking about what they would do with the reward money. Soren would buy more pieces of armor, and Perrin wouldvisitan expensiverestaurant. Serena was beside Margret, I was on the opposite side.


    Margaret said to Serena, "Your cloak is so pretty!" It was teal, and had gold-colored designs embroidered around the edges. "It''s much better than my ugly cloak." I didn''t think there was anything ugly about it. It was just black. Was it too plain?


    She replied, "I think your cloak suits you so well though! If you''d like, I could teach you how to put some designs on yours later."


    "I''d love it!"


    I was glad she had a positive female role model. God knows I could never do that.


    After about an hour more of walking, a caravan appearedover the horizon of theroad, from behind us. They were towing three wagons with arching white covers over them; two horses and one coachman per wagon. A man who sat beside the front coachman yelled and waved for us. "Well met, fellow travelers!" He wore a colorful and fanciful in design robe, and a matching hat. Everyone other than me turned to Serena. It was silently agreed on that she was the face of the party. As they approached nearer, the merchant yelled some orders to the other two wagons, and the caravan stopped completely, beside uswho had moved to the side of the road. Strangely enough, he didn''t seem to have any guards, unless they were in one of the wagons.


    The man hurriedly stepped down from his coachman''s seat, where he sat on the right side, and rounded two horses to reach us, who had been on the left side of the wagon. Yes, now he stood in front of us, looking us up and down, and after a satisfied look, he introduced himself as, "Dietrix the third of house Thornberry." He gave a light bow and said, "You seem to be just the people I am in need of. I had put up a notice of need, that I required a few guards for my journey, at the last city I was in, but no one showed. I have this deal lined up. And this is nearly the peak season for my goods, you see. I couldn''t wait another day for the hope that some may show." He talked quickly and politely, no doubt the speed a necessity for his line of work, andhisstyle a product of his upbringing. Or perhaps he was simply born a quick talker, and that was a reason why he favored the merchant''s trade.


    "So will you help me?" he concluded while gripping his fists pleadingly and shaking them ever so slightly in front of his stomach."Of course I''ll pay you for your services!"


    Again, everyone other than me turned to Serena. With almost zero hesitation, she said, "Sounds like a good deal. We''ll help you. But I do think we''ll need to discuss the pay first."


    And so, after Serena and Dietrix had finagled around a fair price, with Serena solemnly mentioning my numerous and gloriously exploits, that I''m almost certain she could not have known, and Dietrix finally ascenting to the increase, the party was now seated in the back of the third wagon.


    Soren was berating Serena over why she so easily agreed before even asking the others what they thought, though mostly himself. She whispered back, "There''s a well-known den of banditsnear the mountainside, down the road. There''s no way we would be able take them all on. And we definitely don''t have enough coin for their toll either. This is the best option.Weshould count ourselves lucky!"


    Soren and Serena were now marching with the caravan, on lookout duty. Perrin was snoozing about rather relaxedly, a hat covering the top of his face, and his hands over his stomach as it gradually rose and sank. He seemed liked ago with the flow fellow, the sort that knew what he wanted and didn''t care for much else. Margaret sat beside me, reading her father''s book.


    When night came, with shifts exchanged multiple times in between, Margaret kept on reading that book. All until she fell asleep. I wasn''t sure if there was any other way for her to fall asleep now.

 Ch. 5

    The hooves clicked and clacked with the rolling wagon wheels. An occasional pebble or rock would shake the wagon, causing the various goods and packages in the front half of the wagon to jiggle in place. The dirt road was worn and dried compared to the fields of grass around it. And it was morning, early, early morning. The sun still hadn¡¯t risen, but some light bled through. Mist collected at this time of day, shrouding what was in the greater distance. If I could feel the air, it would be chilly and damp.


    Last night, when night approached, camp was made. Margaret was still sleeping in the wagon, leaning against me, open book in her lap. I imagine it was around when they¡¯d made dinner that Perrin had popped his head into the back cover of the wagon and said, ¡°Serena wanted me to - ¡° I simply looked at him. He eyes then found Margaret, still sleeping, then he looked back at me. His lips pursed. His eyes were asking a question, both to me and himself. As if he were in some sort of push and pull turmoil over what to do. In the end, he said urgently and quietly, and with a bow, ¡°Sorry for bothering you!¡± and left. What was that all about?


    Margaret had slept through the night in the wagon. I knew it probably wasn¡¯t good for her, that she should have slept in her sleeping bag on some nice even ground. But there wasn¡¯t much I could do.


    With each successive bump of the wagon, Margaret¡¯s sleep became less and less deep, until she woke up, slowly raising her head and remembering where she had been and what she was doing. Margaret picked up the book, shut it closed, and placed it in her backpack that was beside her. She then hiked up her backpack behind her and jumped out of the wagon. I followed, sword still equipped but not my backpack or Margaret¡¯s tent and sleeping bag. She had told me to put them down when we first entered the wagon.


    Margaret walked up the procession, and found what she was looking for. Serena was sitting beside the middle coachman. She asked Serena about how long we¡¯d been traveling, where they were, and other such questions. As Margaret talked with her on the coachman¡¯s bench, where Serena and the coachman had scooted over to make room, Serena eyed me curiously.


    Margaret said, ¡°He¡¯s a bit overprotective.¡± And that seemed enough to quell her curiosity.


    Suddenly the front wagon stopped, causing our coachman to jolt up and yank the reins with his entire body. The horses brayed and reared, and stopped in time. But it was far too close. What happened?


    Margaret stepped off the wagon and went up to the front wagon.


    A lone man stood in front of it, his hand held out, palm open toward us. He wore a black bandanna around his head, studded leather armor covered most of his body, and he had a dagger, sword, bow, and quiver; none drawn. He had pronounced cheekbones, thin lips, and a mischievous squint to his eyes, as if something was always on his mind.


    ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this!¡± bellowed Dietrich.


    He lowered his hand and declared, his voice high-pitched for a man, and his tone petulant yet matter-of-fact, ¡°This pass is under the control of the bandit band Yellow Tail. If you wish to pass then you must pay a fine. If you wish to pass without paying the fine, you will be sorely disappointed.¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°Screw that!¡± He looked left and right, found the party that had gathered to see what the cause of the sudden stop was, said, ¡°Get ¡®em!¡± and pointed at the man.


    Serena made a wry smile and said, ¡°Hmm, I don¡¯t know. Can¡¯t we resolve this peacefully?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®resolve this peacefully¡¯? I hired you and your men to deal with this exact sort!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not as if we¡¯re being attacked! And would you really risk one of my friend¡¯s lives for the sake of what, a few gold?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not ¨C wait,¡± he turned back to the bandit who now had a retinue of 20 other bandits behind him (they came out from behind a boulder on the side of the road), and asked, ¡°How much is the toll?¡±


    ¡°20 gold.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s outrageous! I won¡¯t pay it! You know how much the toll to enter a city is? It¡¯s 2 gold!¡± He turned back to Serena, ¡°What about that big bloke you¡¯ve got there,¡± he nodded toward me, ¡°Couldn¡¯t he take ¡®em?¡±


    Serena shrugged and swayed her head left and right, as if she were weighing the possibilities. ¡°Even if he could ¨C and I¡¯m not saying he can! Even if he could, do you really want that blood on your hands?


    ¡°He¡¯s the one who¡¯s threatening me!¡±


    The bandit leader held a hand up and said, ¡°Whoa there, no one¡¯s threatening anyone. I am a peace-loving man. I¡¯m simply saying you cannot move forward on this road unless you pay the toll.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s called a threat!¡± Dietrich¡¯s face was red now.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you feel inclined to share your wealth with us? We are but simple bandits of humble beginnings. Surely, one such as yourself has a hoard of gold in one of those wagons. We only ask for 20 gold. Even us bandits require food and equipment required to maintain our tools and livelihood!¡±


    ¡°Livelihood!? What livelihood!? What kind of bandits are you!? Attack us so we can defend ourselves so I get to the damned city for my damned trade! Damn this! Damn you! And damn you!¡± He regarded Serena. ¡°Damn all of you!¡± He was huffing and puffing now, his hair a mess.


    While grumbling, Dietrich left his seat at the coachman¡¯s side, walked back, toward the other wagons, went inside of the first wagon, and came back with something in his hands. It was gold, had a handle on one end and what looked to be a spout on the other, on top, there was a lid, and on the bottom a stand. It had fine engravings that ran all the way from the handle to the spout. But there was something off about this it. It was old, with stains across the metal and an ungodly amount of dust and grime. In its prime, the little thing may have been worth quite a bit, but now, I can¡¯t see why anyone would bother keeping it.


    ¡°Since we¡¯re at an impasse, this is the only thing I can think of.¡± He sighed. ¡°I was hoping to save my wish for something more important.¡± And he rubbed the side of it with his sleeve.


    And from the spout spewed a stream of blue smoke, and throughout that blue smoke, there were sparkles of light that appeared, exploded, and disappeared instantly and continuously. The smoke wouldn¡¯t stop. It would flow and flow and flow, surrounding us all around and above until out grew from it a form. And with the growing of this form, so came clouds of the deadliest storm. And from those clouds came bolts of lightning that shot down, shaking the very earth, and flashing the surrounding in the brightest light for a mere moment. The form grew and grew and morphed, into one of a man. His bottom half was a thick fog of smoke, as his body got lower and lower, so too did it become thinner and thinner, until there was only a wisp of a tail. His top half looked human, mostly, except his skin was blue and made of glass, completely see through. His figure was muscular, on his wrists he wore gold braces, and covering his waist, as well as being the separating line between his upper and lower half, was a red sash. He wore nothing else. He was the size of a giant, floating above us.


    He folded his arms, and with it, the lightning storm stopped.


    He looked down at us. His voice boomed and echoed, and shook us much like the lighting, ¡°What is your wish, my master?¡±

 Ch. 6

    Dietrich declared, so as to make certain the giant man in the sky could hear him, ¡°Oh great and powerful jinn, I wish for - ¡± Serena place her palm on his shoulder and cut in, ¡°Wait, wait, wait, wait. If that¡¯s what I think it is,¡± she pointed to the jinn with both her index fingers, ¡°and I¡¯m pretty sure it is. Then are you crazy!? Spending something so valuable on something like this!? Are you really that cheap?! And haven¡¯t you heard the stories!? It never ends well for the wish-maker. Let it be power or money or love or life and death. It always backfires¡±


    Dietrich jerked his shoulder free of Serena¡¯s hand and said, ¡°Of course I know the stories!¡± I didn¡¯t. ¡°Do you think me stupid?¡± That¡¯s hurtful. ¡°That¡¯s why I was going to wish what I was going to wish. Nothing grand or powerful. I was just going to have him think of a way to resolve our situation.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± All of us (except for me), who were now gathered around him and before the jinn, including the bandits, looked at him, incredulous. ¡°I guess that makes sense...¡± said Serena after a moments thought.


    The jinn still floated above us, all mystical and intimidating, his arms still crossed and his face empty of emotion as he looked down on us.


    One of the bandits offered, ¡°Why not just have him make gold coins?¡±


    Another bandit said, ¡°He could have the gold come from some tryrant king, and that king could hunt you till death.¡±


    ¡°Uh, that seems real unlikely.¡±


    The bandit scoffed. ¡°Clearly you haven¡¯t heard the stories.¡±


    The other bandit became sullen-faced, not appreciating the insult to his ignorance.


    ¡°So,¡± said Dietrich, addressing all of us, ¡°Does anyone have any objections with my wish? Surely, this jinn cannot destroy or greatly inconvenience us by simply voicing his opinion, correct?¡± Some nodded agreeably and some did nothing but give wary looks, either way, no one voiced any counter to his line of reasoning. And so he continued, ¡°Great and powerful jinn, I wish for you to think of a way to solve our problem!¡±


    The jinn did nothing for a moment, and we as well, held up in the anticipation of it all. And then he said it, his voice still booming, ¡°What?¡±


    Dietrich looked left and right, as if hoping someone else could answer in his stead. Finally, he said, ¡°We wish to know what you think!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ That¡¯s...¡± The jinn began to shake, and with it, the ground began to quake. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ That¡¯s...¡± Cracks like canyons split across his skin. His entire self was crumbling and collapsing. The physical half of his body plummeted in the smoke half, pushing the smoke outward and dissipating it. The quake stopped and the storm clouds dispersed. I thought him dead, but as the smoke cleared more and more, in the center of where it all had happened, was a man, blue and glass-skinned, but with legs and pants, and the size of, well, a man.


    He jumped around, launched his arms up in celebration and said in a completely normal voice, ¡°That¡¯s all I ever wanted!¡±


    Margaret, the party, the merchant, his men, and the bandits, all of them were slack-jawed, wide-eyed, completely floored. This is either going to go really well for us, or really badly. That¡¯s my feeling on it.


    All of them were still in shock as the Jinn sauntered up to them. He said, ¡°Over a millennia of wish granting, and all people ever say is, ¡®I want my dead wife back!¡¯, ¡® I want you to kill that bastard who cheated on me!¡¯, ¡®I want to be a king!¡¯, but no one ever asks me what I think!¡± Oh no, this is bad. ¡°But you don¡¯t want to waste your wish on asking me what I think. Why, I¡¯ll tell you that for free.¡± Of course you will.Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°So, uh, what do you think we should do?¡± asked Dietrich, who still had not processed everything yet.


    ¡°Wha, what was the problem again?¡± asked the jinn who seemed more interested in other people¡¯s interest in himself than Dietrich¡¯s problem.


    Dietrich sighed, as he were tired of it all, of all the upsets and roadblocks, and only wanted one thing, one thing he could not have, at least not yet. He straightened himself up and told the jinn of the situation.


    The jinn thought for a moment, hand on his chin, and said with some finality and conviction, ¡°Talent show.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°A talent show! A competition where I will be the judge, whoever among the two sides wins must succumb to the other¡¯s demands!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a talent show?¡±


    ¡°You get up on a stage and show off your talent! We need two more judges.¡± He darted his eyes across each and every one of us, and pointed, ¡°There, the little girl! She looks impartial enough. And who else¡­ Ah, you.¡± We all looked where he had pointed but saw nothing but grass. From his pointed fingertip shot out a wobbling streak of blue solid light, much like a lightning bolt but slower, not much slower, but slower. As it went, the streak made a loud crackling sound and bits of it and spark flew off. It zapped out onto the ground and what appeared from it was a man. He was bald, his mouth was long, and eyes large and round. He wore nothing. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll be needing clothes,¡± he zapped him again, and clothes appeared on him.


    The man himself was in a daze at first, and then it dawned on him. His head darted left, right, and every other imaginable direction, ¡°Where the hell am I!?¡± He raised his palms up and looked on at them with terror. ¡°What am I!?¡± He started screaming and running around like a chicken with its head cut off. ¡°Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!¡±


    All heads simply turned back to the jinn, expecting an explanation.


    The jinn raised his shoulder with arms held out to the sides, like a kid who was trying to convince his troublemaking was nothing. ¡°What? It¡¯ll wear off in no time. The transitions a tad¡­ stimulating, but he¡¯ll be fine.¡± The jinn¡¯s lower body poofed away with with a puff of smoke replacing it, and flew off to the running screaming man. He flew down beside him, and walked with him, the jinn¡¯s arms resting over the man¡¯s shoulder. After a little while the two of them came walking back. ¡°So you see, you¡¯re human now. Now it¡¯s not as if you¡¯re a fae or a dragon, but it¡¯s still a step up.¡± The man shyly introduced himself as Grendel. ¡°He¡¯ll be our third judge!¡±


    ¡°Now wait just a second here!¡± Dietrich held a finger up pointedly. ¡°We¡¯re not going to just play along with your - ¡± Dietrich noticed something in the periphery of his vision, looked off to it and noticed the bandits had huddled up in circle.


    The bandit leader said, ¡°So what¡¯ve we got?¡± The other bandits chimed in.


    ¡°I can whittle.¡±


    ¡°I can garden.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good at public speaking.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no, we need something big and showy!¡±


    Dietrich immediately stopping speaking and gestured his arms in a gather round motion to the party and his coachmen, and said, ¡°Anyone have anything?¡±


    No one said a thing, except Perrin excitedly, ¡°Oh, I can sing and dance, play a couple instruments!¡± as he was listing things he raised a finger after the other, ¡°I can eat really quickly, I can juggle, magic tricks - not real magic, just tricks. I can recite at least two dozen stories perfectly; and even do voices and sound effects. I¡¯ve been told it can be quite chilling and uncanny at times.¡±


    They all simply looked at him, confused and in disbelief that a single creature could have so many seemingly useless talents.


    ¡°What? We Hidlen are a party folk!¡±


    Dietrich said, deathly serious, ¡°Do you think you can teach one of us those talents in thirty minutes?¡± As Perrin was about to answer, Dietrich said, ¡°Wait,¡± popped his head out from the huddle, and called out to the Jinn. ¡°How much time do we have!?¡±


    The jinn replied, ¡°30 minutes sound good to me!¡±


    I don¡¯t know when it happened, but a stage had appeared on the side of the road, a proper performing stage, with wood paneling that seemed to shine and red luxurious curtains, and among those curtains, short black tubes that emitted rays of light. And in front of the stage was a long desk with three chairs. And behind the desk, rows of metal round chairs.

 Ch. 7

    I sat in the audience, including Soren, some bandits, and coachmen. Margaret, the jinn, and Grendel sat at the judge¡¯s table; the jinn in the center, Margaret on his left, and Grendel on the right.


    The sun had risen and the mist had disappeared. Though none had watched the sun rise; they were too busy with the preparation and clamor of the competition. The bandit''s mountain was to the left of the road.


    Four would perform for each side. For us, the order was Perrin, then Serena, then Dietrich, and then Augustus; he was one of the coachmen.


    These chairs were curious. Never before have I seen one of its kind, or so many so identical in both dimensions and style. Chairs were wood and hand-crafted. You could always see the carves and age of a chair, each looked different from the other. But these things were metal, identical, and shined all the same.


    The jinn flew over to the stage, in front of the closed curtains, in the center, and announced, ¡°Presenting Perrin Turcuttle!¡± His voice boomed once again, except not from himself, but from the sides of the stage. He then flew back to and say in his judge¡¯s seat.


    The curtains parted, revealing Perrin who sat on a stool, a waterskin beside him. Before him was a black stick that stood on a stand with another short black stick attached to its top, pointed in the direction of Perrin. Behind him was a painting, on the stage¡¯s wall, of a decrepit mansion atop a jagged mountaintop, in the middle of a storm, and surrounded by a raging sea. There were sound effects too, of thunder, howling wind, pouring rain, and crashing waves. He spoke into the short stick and his voice boomed as well.


    Perrin started his story by stating how his party was marching up the twisting, perilous path that lead to the mountaintop mansion. One of his friends had received a letter, their rich uncle had died, and a reading of the will was to be had. Normally, one would never invite friends to a gathering that was strictly for family, but the will insisted that they were to be allowed to bring up to four other individuals.


    The scene behind Perrin changed when he finished with his introduction, into one of a grand foyer of a mansion, with dual stairways at the sides of the wall opposite of the entrance, two doors leading to hallways on the left and right, and in between the stairways was a portrait of the deceased with flowers beside and under it. The interior design was of old, dark wood. There were few paintings or tapestries on the walls, but carved shapes and animal designs inside them. And it was lit sparsely, but enough. There was a bevy of people, dressed finely in black. The sounds changed to ones of party murmurs, of serving trays clinking against other glasses and metals, and the shuffling of feet.


    Perrin continued his story with wild gesticulations, stating how lovely the interior was, how nice and welcoming everyone was, and the food, oh the food, how delectable and varying it was. There were even some things he never heard of before, and most importantly, there was the presence of his favorite delicacies that he hardly ever got to try.


    And the scene changed once again, into one of a room with rows of chairs before a coffin, the uncle''s upper half presented. This time it was silent, mournful, downright dour. Curiously though, none wept, no, not even the old or young.


    Perrin continued, ¡°Just after the rites were read, and when the will was to be read, when everything of his estate would be doled out, it happened. The room became chilly, not because of the temperature of the room or of an ajar window, for the room had no windows and the door was closed, but it was because of chill wind that blew throughout it. None knew where it had come from. The wind continued to blow, and the bells of the clocks of the manor, they rang, altogether, simultaneously, as if on cue. But for what? I¡¯m sure that¡¯s what we all thought. And when the bells that rang 12 times, no more and no less, stopped, he appeared. The wind collected and swirled above the coffin, gathering a loose handkerchief, glove, and dust. And seemingly rising out of his dead body was the uncle. His ghostly face, quite unlike his dead one, was not at all at peace. There was a conviction to the furrow of his brows. And as he rose more, we saw his body, completely colorless - except perhaps a light gray - and transparent enough to see what was behind him, but also to the point that he seemed fully solid as well. The laws of gravity were not put to work on this man. The end of his suit and his hair, they stirred, as if they were undersea. But more than that was the way he carried himself, a walking stick in one hand and his other held tightly to his lapel. He seemed completely and absolutely ready for whatever it was that was going to happen. He said,¡± Perrin made his voice deep and strong sounding, ¡°¡°One of you murdered me. And no one is getting anything until I found out who.¡±¡±


    And Perrin continued on, telling of all that had to be gone through to find the true culprit. It was a thrilling and edge-of-your-seat inducing experience. There were some secrets said, a few chases, almost another murder, and more than a couple red herrings, and you¡¯d never guess who it was, except until the last moment, when you realized it could only have been that person from the start. In the end, everyone was safe and sound, and the culprit was sent off by the authorities.


    The audience applauded, including the judges. The jinn whistled with his fingers and howled like a wolf. And after the applause had died down, everyone looked to the judges. It was decided earlier that after the performances, each judge would say what they thought and hold up a number corresponding to their score of the piece.


    It started off with Grendel, to which when it was decided it would, he had made a face of ghastly terror. And now, again, when all looked to him for his thoughts, he could not help but move his hands all about without actually doing anything with them, teeth jittering, eyes darting left and right, manically, and finally, after a long hollow breath, he said, stuttering, ¡°I-I th-thought it was good.¡± And held up a sign that said 9.


    Then the jinn said, ¡°Well said.¡± in a way that none could be sure whether he was being serious or not. Even Grendel looked at him, incredulous. He clapped some more and said, ¡°It was absolutely wonderful, captivating, all the things that make a murder mystery worthwhile.¡± and held up a 10.


    Then Margaret held up another 10, recalling and commenting on her favorite scene.


    Perrin bowed, right hand under his chest, and left arm held outward to the side, and the curtains closed. There would be a five minute break between each act, and beside the rows of chairs were concession stands (each were manned by a copy of the jinn dressed in uniforms) that people helped themselves to. All talked and reminisced on Perrin¡¯s tale. One saying how they were sure it was the butler, and another saying how they thought it would be the count. Someone said they had to go to the bathroom really bad, but they were sure the story was about to hit the really good part, so they didn''t. Coincidentally, after saying so, that person went straight for the forest in a mad dash.


    The jinn announced the next act would be beginning and everyone rushed back to their seats. Perrin''s performance had set an atmosphere for the event, making all expect much of the same caliber.


    This time it would be someone from the bandit¡¯s side. The curtains parted, revealing a women. Her name was Amelia. She was dressed in contrasting colors dyed bright; no doubt meant to catch the eye. And atop her puffy hat was a plume of a feather, its colors also contrasting, one color fading into the other from the center shaft. All in all, she looked ridiculous, perfectly fit for a court jester or minstrel.


    Held in her arms was a lute. She strummed it, as if to check if it were tuned correctly. It was.


    She plucked a chord, at first with a soft gentleness. And then the next chord and the next. The notes became a melody, with each successive pluck melding the note of the first with the next. It was slow, and kind, and sad. And then she sang, her words like tears, sharp in their sorrow, but slow in their flow. She sang of love, of her love, of the time they spent, of the promises they made, of how fate had torn them apart, of how still to this day, she dreamed of him.


    And then it ended. None made a sound, as if it to do so would tarnish the sweet melody she had made. It was simply silent for a long moment. And then someone clapped, and that clap was met with many others, until all did so.


    Some of the female bandits openly wept with cloths to their face. And even some of the men allowed a single teardrop to flow down their cheek, but most had buried their eyes in their elbows before it was allowed.


    Grendel was still sobbing when it was all over, when all expected him to give his verdict. In the end, he said, while sobbing into his elbow, ¡°10! It¡¯s a 10!¡± He added, sounding as if he only just realized it, ¡°It was so sad!¡± and continued sobbing.


    The jinn clapped again and said, ¡°Truly spectacular. This is this the kind of human¡¯s whining about their bad romance I enjoy.¡± He raised up a sign that said 10.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Margaret raised up a 9, saying, ¡°It was super sad,¡± and add with pursed lips and thoughtful eyes, ¡°but I didn¡¯t really get it.¡± Good. I hope you never do.


    She bowed much like Perrin did, except she had her right leg behind her left, and bent it so only the tip of her right foot touched the floor, and the curtains closed. And a break was had. This time though, little to none left their seats or talked among themselves; they were still stricken by the mood the song had given them, and they would likely continue to be until a time had passed, or until their palate cleansed. And it was, a little, when the jinn joyously announced the next participant exactly as he had done the last two times.


    The curtains parted, revealing Serena on one side of the stage, and three targets on the other. She had her bow in hand and arrows at her side.


    Margaret waved with energy, excitement, and a smile spread across her face. Serena returned the wave, though not nearly as energetically, but equally as eager, she waved and smiled back reservedly.


    Perrin was indeed our heavy hitter. Though Serena¡¯s skill was not quite as showy, it was impressive.


    Serena turned toward the target, looked at it for a moment, grabbed an arrow, nocked it, drew it, and for a short moment - a moment that would that would mean the difference between a finishing blow and a mere scrape - she focused her shot. The degree was so much that you could physically feel it, the aura, the energy of her intent. And she loosed her arrow.


    It flitted across the span of the stage, which though not large for a show of archery, was not small either. And its mark made true, striking in the center of the center dot of the target.


    This feat was indeed impressive, but an impressive deed done once can simply be played off as a stroke of luck, a simple whim of lady luck. To truly cement her skill, she would have to achieve the same feat once again.


    And again, she did the same as last time. And again, its mark made true.


    And once more, on the last of the three targets, she did the same.


    After she shot her third arrow, she looked visibly tired; breathing deeply, slouched over, and a lock of hair hanging over her face.


    The audience clapped again, though not nearly as boisterously or unanimously as they did for the prior performances.


    Back in my day, there were those who could use their very words and songs in battle; storytellers could turn their tales into reality, bards could soothe not only the soul but the body with their songs. It was insane and terrifying, but beautiful. I even knew an archer who could use the wind, or as he liked to say, let the wind use him. With his arrow, he could send it far, and penetrate the hides and skulls of monsters no others could. I¡¯m glad none of these lot seem so powerful. I¡¯m glad there doesn¡¯t seem to be a war ravishing this land, that none need to find greater strength.


    Grendel gave a verdict of 8 without much of a statement. And the jinn seemed perplexed, arms folded across one another and leaning back in his chair. Margaret gave her ruling of 8 as well. And then the jinn said, ¡°It was good, but I feel like it was missing something. Sure it would be fine for a competition, but this isn¡¯t a competition. Or it is but it also isn¡¯t.¡± Grendel and Margaret looked at him, confused. ¡°What I mean to say is that it could use some more... pizzazz. How about an apple on a head, or catching an arrow and shooting it back, or shooting an arrow shot at you?¡±


    Serena rolled her eyes. ¡°You mean trick shooting?¡±


    The jinn nodded profusely, ¡°Yes, yes, indeed.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know how to do that. My mother only taught me how to hunt with the bow.¡±


    The jinn nodded profusely some more, full of understanding and patience, ¡°I see, I see, no problem, though a little disappointing.¡± and raised up another 8.


    Serena bowed a rough bow, without any of the delicate arm or leg movements of the prior contestants, she only lowered her back, and the curtains closed.


    And another break was had. This one much more casual than the last. Some admiring Serena¡¯s skill, and others apparently unaware of them.


    The jinn announced the next contestant. His name was Harold and he would be whittling. The curtains parted, and he sat on a stool, a wooden block in one hand and a small knife in the other, and a bucket below him. He was one of the more brutish-seeming of the bandits. His forehead protruded slightly from his head, shading his eyes and giving him an ominous look. But the rest of his face, his expression included, told of a peaceful creature.


    And so he started, carving into that wooden block, causing a curl of a shaving of wood to fall into the bucket. A couple minutes of this passed when the jinn called out to him, ¡°How long is this going to take? Could you do it any faster?¡±


    Harold¡¯s voice was deep and honest, ¡°You can¡¯t rush art. I¡¯ll be done within the hour.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    And so Harold continued to whittle, and continued to whittle. Some audience members elected to attempt to snooze rather than continue to watch. But then something happened.


    Harold was whittling faster. It was hard to tell if you weren¡¯t looking close. His body remained motionless, but his hands were moving at a ridiculous, impossible speed. And when Harold was about to open his mouth, his hands returned back to normal speed, and he said, ¡°I¡¯m almost done.¡± He didn¡¯t notice it, the jinn¡¯s little trick.


    He stepped down from the stage and presented the wood figurine to the judge¡¯s table. It was of a sparrow. Its legs were thin, its tail was long, and its beak sharp. He even etched in the detail of the feathers and the lines in its legs. It was a fine craft that must have taken many a wood blocks to make.


    All of the judges gave it an 8. The curtains closed, a break was had, with some audience members nudging to attention the dozers, and the jinn announced the next contestant. It would be Dietrich.


    The curtains parted, revealing Dietrich with three colorful balls in hand. He did not know how to juggle, at least not before this event. Perrin had spent the majority of the 30 minutes attempting to teach him how.


    And so he threw the ball up, and then the next, and then the next. And then he caught one and threw it back up. And when he attempted to do the same for the next, he missed it as it fell past his outstretched hand.


    Dietrich froze, and the rest of the balls fell to the floor. He looked on at that first fallen ball with terror. And then he fell to his knees and then the palms of his hands fell to the floor. Lifeless and hopeless was his demeanor.


    ¡°New rule!¡± shouted the jinn, ¡°Those who fail their performance are put into timeout.¡± The jinn zapped Dietrich and a transparent ball surrounded him. The ball floated up from the stage to above the jinn. ¡°And they¡¯re only taken out of timeout when the next performer on their side performs well. It¡¯s like dodgeball.¡± Dodge what?


    Dietrich didn¡¯t seem all that upset by the new rule, rather, he didn¡¯t seem to notice it, still stuck in that position of defeat.


    The jinn continued on, stating how Dietrich wouldn¡¯t be judged and how the break would begin. And then he announced the next contestant, Durham.


    The curtains parted, revealing the bandit leader. Held in his hands were also an assortment of colorful balls. He was sweating profusely, his eyes darting between the jinn and the levitating Dietrich. He did not seem pleased. With a gulp of the throat, he tossed them up. He was more successful than Dietrich. He had caught two balls and thrown them back up before the third fell to the floor, rather deafening at that.


    Durham continued looking up at where the balls should have been. And then he turned to the first fallen ball, and then back at the jinn, knowingly. With a grim bow of his head, he accepted his fate.


    ¡°New new rule!¡± shouted the jinn once again. ¡°If the next performance doesn¡¯t figuratively knock my socks off, both of these men are going to be thrown to the fishies!¡± With a poof of blue smoke, a wide, wide transparent barrel appeared beside the judge¡¯s table. Held in it was water and a pair of sharks.


    Durham attempted to run, but the jinn zapped him mid-stride and a transparent ball surrounded him. He still had his weapons and armor equipped. He unsheathed his sword and smashed madly at the interior with the butt end of it. No cracks or crevices appeared. No, I doubt even a scratch.


    This Dietrich did hear. He began to smash at the orb with his clenched fists as it moved to the shark barrel. He shouted, ¡°Someone stop this crazy bastard!¡±


    Now the bandits, Soren, Serena, Perrin, Grendel, and the coachmen rallied and rose up from their chairs. Or tried to. But they could not. The jinn snapped his fingers and chains appeared around them all, trapping them to their chairs. I sat still.


    Margaret bolted up from her chair, causing it to fall on its back, and shouted to the jinn, ¡°What are you doing!?¡±


    The jinn replied, as if confused by the question, ¡°What am I doing? What?¡± His body started to grow. ¡°I''m having fun!¡± He now towered and loomed over Margaret. ¡°What point is there in a contest without a little incentive?!¡± He turned away from her and to the audience. His voice teetered between madness and order. ¡°Now everyone, let¡¯s sit down, and enjoy the show.¡±


    Margaret turned to me and shouted, ¡°Galla - ¡°. A cloth appeared, tied around her mouth.


    The jinn said, ¡°Ah, ah, ah,¡± with a waggle of his index finger side to side. ¡°No you don¡¯t.¡±


    My body did not move.


    The jinn shrunk back to normal, flew over to the stage, and announced the next contestant.


    To this, Dietrich began to flail even more wildly. Durham saw this and took it as some sort of clue and bashed more intensely.


    Out of breath and on their backsides, Dietrich shouted, ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t pay the toll!¡±


    Durham replied, ¡°I¡¯m sorry too! We weren¡¯t even going to attack you! It was all bluster! We just threaten people hoping they¡¯ll be too scared to fight back! I know I asked for too much! But we needed it! My wife and others were sick!¡±


    ¡°I would pay it twice if it could get us out of this!¡±


    ¡°Really, do you mean it!?¡± said not Durham, but the jinn.


    ¡°What?¡± Dietrich turned his head in the direction of the giant head of the jinn that was beside him, looking in on his transparent ball with one eye.


    The jinn asked again, genuinely, spacing out the words to add emphasis, ¡°Do you mean it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, yes!¡± shouted Dietrich incessantly.


    The jinn said succinctly, sounding satisfied, ¡°Well alright then.¡±


    And just like that, it all disappeared, the stage, the chairs, the chains, the concession stands, the judge¡¯s table, the shark barrel, the orbs, and the cloth around Margaret¡¯s mouth, all of it.


    And as the jinn disappeared into the center of a shrinking tornado of blue smoke that originated from the lantern, which was still on Dietrich¡¯s person, he said, ¡°Your wish has been granted!¡±


    A long, long moment passed. One filled with nothing but silence and the whistle of the wind.


    Everyone¡¯s jaw dropped at the realization of the reason for which all had transpired.


    None said a word.


    Still silent, Dietrich went to the back of his second wagon, came out with a shovel, and started to dig. Durham did the same. When he decided it was deep enough, Dietrich threw the magic lamp in. And then the two set to work burying it. When it was done, all had gathered around the caravan. Dietrich said, ¡°Let¡¯s pretend this never happened.¡± All nodded.


    And we continued on the road. Dietrich had given Durham 10 gold coins, and Grendel, without anywhere else to go, joined the caravan.

 Ch. 8 Friends and Farewell

    Grendel, Durham, Dietrich, Perrin, Soren, Serena, Margaret, and I sat in the back of the third wagon. It was cramped to say the least. But none seemed to notice or care. They were likely still caught up in what had gone on earlier.


    Durham, the bandit leader, Amelia, Harold and two of the other bandits had joined the caravan. They had no quicker form of transportation and wanted to get the medicine for the sick at their camp as soon as possible. Dietrich agreed on the condition that some of their number would pitch in for lookout duty, unpaid of course, and Durham agreed.


    Everyone in the wagon had the same stare; a motionless, confused stare pointed down the center of their vision. None wanted to so much as mention it, no, none dared to do or say a thing. They simply kept on pondering over it.


    That is, until Perrin had a jolt of inspiration play through his eyes and face, raising his hunched in thought head, and bringing out from his sack a deck of cards, he said hopefully, ¡°You guys want to play a game?¡±


    None responded except Margaret, turning to him and leaning forward, she said, sounding genuinely interested, ¡°What kind of game?¡±


    To this, Serena became interested as well. And to that, so did Soren.


    And Perrin, joyful that his idea seemed to be working so far, explained, ¡°It¡¯s called werewolf; each person is given a role of werewolf or villager, and among the villagers, there¡¯s one seer and doctor. The game happens in one of two stages; during the night, the werewolves can choose to kill a villager, the seer can choose a person to identify the role of, and the doctor can protect someone from being killed - oh, and no one knows the role of anyone at the start, except the werewolves know who the other werewolves are, and everyone closes their eyes at the start of night. The goal of the game for the villagers is to identify and lynch the werewolves with a vote during the day. And the goal for the werewolves is to kill all the villagers. It¡¯s basically a game about deception and luck. If you can convince people you are who you say you are or aren¡¯t who they think you are, you win.¡±


    Grendels ears perked as he listened to the rules, and then he also turned his attention to Perrin.


    Dietrich commented, ¡°How are the roles decided?¡±


    ¡°How are we to communicate our nightly businesses,¡± asked, Durham.


    Perrin had a brimming smile as he made a fan of cards in his hands and said, ¡°I give each of you a face down card, and the roles are decided like that. I¡¯ll communicate with those who have roles in the night by tapping on you and making silent gestures. Are we ready to play?¡±


    All nodded.


    Perrin hopped down from his seat and handed the cards out. And after asking if everyone was ready, he began the night phase. Everyone ducked their heads down or covered their eyes with their hands.


    A few hours had passed, and they had played the game a couple times, the other bandits and coachmen tagging in, as they too heard the laughs and cries of accusation and denial being made.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you guessed I was a werewolf on the first night!¡± exclaimed Soren to Dietrich.


    ¡°It was simple luck my friend! Hahaha!¡± said Dietrich who was too high from his win to notice Soren¡¯s palpable agitation.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry I voted to lynch you, Margaret,¡± said Serena solemnly.


    Margaret shook here head, ¡°I would¡¯ve too, Grendel looks way too harmless.¡± They both looked at Grendel with his wide, innocent mouth. To which he simply shrugged. And then the three laughed uproariously.


    Durham grumbled by himself, arms crossed, ¡°If I were the seer, if only, I would¡¯ve been able to win easily.¡± Durham had died multiple times as a villager, each and every time before doing so, he had accused correctly a werewolf, but none had believed him.


    ¡°How about another game?¡± asked Margaret.


    All nodded again. But they couldn¡¯t play another game. The had wagon stopped, and Harold popped his head into the wagon, and said, ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±


    Dietrich tilted his head and asked, ¡°Here? As in here, here?¡±


    He nodded, ¡°I think so.¡±


    Dietrich left his bench and the wagon. All followed. The sun was nearing the horizon. We came to the front of the wagons, and there it was, Antimony city¡¯s check in area. An iron gate installed in a dome-like opening inside a tall stone wall was raised. In front of and beside the door was a stone hut with a man in partial armor in it. He stood to attention, his back straight, however, his face bored. He eyed us in an expectation of approach.


    Dietrich approached, presented his papers, and paid his tax. Since none of the others were responsible for hauling in cargo for trade, they were not required to show identification or pay a tax.


    ¡°We should find an inn first. We¡¯ll deliver the bear to the guild tomorrow.¡± Soren and Perrin agreed. We had taken the bear out from Dietrich¡¯s wagon when we entered the city. ¡°Margaret, can you stay at the same inn as us so we can give you your share."


    Margaret nodded, and then turned to Grendel and asked, ¡°What are you going to do now that you¡¯re in the big city.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± replied Grendel, as if he had just thought of it, what would he do, ¡°If you guys don¡¯t mind, I¡¯ll stay at the same inn as you guys.¡±


    ¡°Of course we wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± said Serena, ¡°We¡¯re basically the only friends you¡¯ve got in town, so feel free to ask us anything. I mean, literally anything. Since, you know, you were kind of born today.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± said Perrin, ¡°That means it¡¯s your birthday! Happy birthday! Oh! And you know how people say, ¡®I wasn¡¯t born yesterday!¡¯? Well, now you can say it proudly, I was born yesterday!¡±


    All laughed, including Dietrich and Durham who had been casually walking along the same main road as the party.


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t you have a place you have to be going? I mean to store your goods and stuff?¡± asked Serena who had noticed. "Most places close by sunset."


    He nodded and said, ¡°Indeed I do. But it¡¯s not in a warehouse, no, I have some friends who own an inn; they agreed to store my goods. And it''s close by. If you¡¯d like, you all could come. I¡¯m sure they¡¯d give us a discount since we¡¯re such a large party.¡±


    All agreed.


    The inn took a spot on a corner street, and it was large as well with multiple stories, and a blue-tiled roof. Dietrich entered first. The first floor that also served as a tavern was half full. Over the noise of the patrons, Dietrich and the inn owner met eyes. The inn owner stopped cleaning the mug in his hand and rushed from behind the bar, to Dietrich, and said, ¡°It¡¯s been too long, old friend!¡± The man grabbed at Dietrich and embraced him, lifting him from the floor. Dietrich, however, did not reply in full, no he simply took the hug with his arms tucked in and said both in pain and good humor, ¡°Good to see you too, Boris.¡±


    The rooms were decided and the party had dinner, reminiscing on the games of mafia further and after that, sharing stories of the past, backstories if you will. Durham told of his life before banditry, of how he was just another villager, son of the town¡¯s gravedigger, and expected to become the next, and how he wanted more. Then his wife had been passing through his town. She was the second daughter of a lesser noble who was unsure of her prospects as well. In the end, they ran off to become bandits. They didn¡¯t have much, but at least they were together.


    And Dietrich told of how he was the third son of his house, so he too, after his first brother would inherit the house, had little prospects as well. That is, until he took up the merchant¡¯s trade. It started out quite crumbly, with him losing nearly all of his starting capital, but he had some friends in the merchant''s guild who had given him a small loan of a couple hundred gold.


    After dinner was over, everyone went to wash-up. It must have been long since they last did so, since they¡¯ve been traveling so long, and most inns outside of cities didn¡¯t have rooms dedicated to it. When Serena and Margaret were walking into the lady¡¯s room, I too of course, walked in as well. Or attempted to.


    Margaret pushed against me and said, ¡°Wo! No, not you too! Wait outside!¡± I stepped back and did so.


    ¡°Your uncle sure is overprotective,¡± said Serena.


    ¡°Hahaha! Yeah.¡± Margaret tried to laugh it off.


    After Margaret finished with her bath, the two walked to Margaret¡¯s room. They said their farewells and Serena turned to leave, Margaret suddenly called out to her, ¡°Hey!¡±


    To this, Serena started, turned back around, and asked half-spooked, ¡°what?¡±


    ¡°Uh, haha, nothing. Just wanted to scare you!¡±


    ¡°Well mission accomplished. Good night.¡±


    ¡°Night.¡± And Serena left.


    Margaret closed the door.


    Margaret turned to the interior of the room and looked around; it had one bed, a stand beside it, a chest at the end of it, a window on the side opposite the door, and a chair beside the window. She then stepped up to the side of the bed, turned away from it, and flopped down on it with her back. I followed her and stood beside the bed.


    ¡°You can sit in the chair.¡± she said.


    My body did not move.


    She sighed and said, ¡°Sit in the chair,¡± and got up on her elbows and turned to point at it. When she saw me sit, she then flopped back down on the bed. ¡°I hate ordering you around. I¡¯m sure you hate it too. If you can hate too. If you could.¡±


    I don¡¯t think you or I have much of a choice.


    ¡°It feels like it¡¯s been forever since I talked with you - or to you. So much has happened in the past few days. I never imagined I would be in this place in this way, and with such people, or that what happened would have happened.¡±


    I hardly think anyone would have.


    ¡°I know I probably shouldn¡¯t have asked you to save them when I did. They could have been like those knights. But when I saw them in trouble, I couldn¡¯t think of anything else. They were in trouble and we were there. I¡¯m sure they would have done the same, if they were there.¡±


    I know helping people is good and right. But I was and am still more worried about you.


    ¡°After we met Dietrich, I was looking through Papa¡¯s book. I was looking for a way to undo the spell.¡±


    What? Why?


    ¡°I think it¡¯s okay now. I think I¡¯m safe. When we were at that inn, in that town, when they showed up again, I think one of them saw me, but they didn¡¯t really do anything, right?¡±


    No, it''s not. It''s not safe.


    ¡°And it¡¯s been days since that night, and you¡­ killed them all.¡±


    It¡¯s been two days! They could still find you somehow!


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve figured out how to undo the spell. I¡¯m going to free you once I¡¯ve figured out a decent excuse.


    No!


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure Serena and everyone else will understand and help me out. And I¡¯ve still got some silver and copper left. And also the money from the bear!¡±


    No, no, no!


    ¡°Good night.¡± She wrapped herself in the sheets and turned away from me. The sun had set.


    No¡­ you¡¯re still not safe.


    I wanted to shake and shout. I wanted to tell her everything I felt. I wanted to break that hopeful smile of hers by reminding her of her crushing reality. But I couldn¡¯t.


    ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª


    Morning came, and Margaret woke late compared to everyone else. When she came down to the tavern, many had already grabbed a table. Durham sat in a table with his fellow bandits. Dietrich sat with his coachmen and Grendel. And Serena, Soren and Perrin took up a table, one with two seats remaining. Breakfast and talk of what they would do for the day was being had. Margaret and I joined them. The trio would turn in the quest, and it was decided Margaret and I would join them as well, to not only obtain my share of the reward, but to also carry the bear.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Suddenly, the bustling inn grew quiet. Nine newcomers had arrived; they wore full plate armor, and white tabards with the symbol of a dragon coiled around a pyre on it. All eyed them suspiciously, as if these sort were known for an undesirable reputation, but eventually, the inn¡¯s noise and business went on again. Margaret did nothing, she simply froze in place, staring wide-eyed at the inn¡¯s entrance. Serena noticed this and tried to get her attention, but couldn¡¯t.


    Eight of them stayed back by the door, arms folded behind their backs. Except one. He took off his helmet, (he was old with white hair, a sharp chin and hooked nose) held it between his elbow and side, and walked forward, to the bar, but not down it, where Boris had been pretending to be busy. No, he simply walked to the edge of the bar and waited. And when that didn¡¯t seem to be enough, he knocked on the bar; the sound of metal against wood rang heavy and hollow. All could hear it. A brief pause again, everyone had silenced and stopped, but then in the next moment, it started again. Best to ignore them, perhaps they thought.


    Boris came up to the knight of the purifying pyre, and the two talked. What about? If only this crowd would silence itself. Throughout the conversation, Boris nodded a few times, and then the knight nodded and walked away, toward our table. To this the inn did silence itself again, this time permanently, as if asking, what the hell do you want?


    The knight took out from a pouch strapped to his side a scroll, unfurled it, and read it aloud, his voice was gruff, calm, and practiced, as if he done it this task many times, ¡°By decree of the order of the Purifying Pyre, I, Eustace Avener pronounce that the child known as Margaret Abernathy is, by right of the seventh law, to be taken into our custody and summarily executed.¡±


    A silence infested the place, awaiting, no, demanding a response.


    And one was had, by Serena, she shot up from her chair and shouted, ¡°What!? By what right? What did she do?¡±


    ¡°Are you truly unaware, Madam? Haven¡¯t you seen the papers posted around the city¡¯s notice boards? I suppose our order hasn¡¯t fully spread around these parts. The wizardry or witchcraft of necromancy, of desecrating the dead and bringing them back in some ungodly form of half-life and half-death.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying! Margaret would never do that!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I assure you I¡¯m not, and that she has. Many eyewitnesses from her little village identified her, and many more did so in the town she traveled to after that.¡± Margaret gasped. ¡°Yes, did you think we wouldn¡¯t be able to find you after you killed all five of the men we sent? They were good men too.¡± All eyes shifted from Eustace to the girl, different eyes this time, ones filled with fear and doubt instead of the prior wariness pointed at the man in of the Purifying Pyre.


    But Serena did not relent. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t hurt a fly!¡±


    ¡°No, I suppose she wouldn¡¯t, or couldn¡¯t.¡± He then strolled down to where I sat, and knocked on my shoulder with the knuckle of his index finger. ¡°But with this fellow, oh I¡¯m sure she could do something, in fact I know she could, for she already has. I saw the aftermath with my own eyes.¡± He looked off, as if thinking to himself, ¡°It foolish of me to send those men, but no news of any actual summoning was given, no, the townsfolk only told of that man¡¯s mad research on vermin. I never thought I was sending them to their deaths.¡± Then he looked back, ¡°And since this fellow is still around, that must mean this little miss is the culprit." Serena slumped back into her chair. "And I¡¯m afraid our order is lacking in any mercy for practitioners of the dark arts, no matter the age.¡± He looked down, at Margaret, and smiled. The bastard actually smiled. ¡°You¡¯re all alone. Now come peacefully.¡± The knight motioned for her.


    No one said a thing, no, not even Serena, she didn¡¯t even turn to look at Margaret, she simply kept on staring forward in shock. Even with Margaret looking at her with pleading eyes. I could only imagine what she was thinking, what they were all thinking. They were likely recalling my odd behavior; how I always followed Margaret, almost automatically, how they never saw me eat or sleep, and how convenient Margaret¡¯s backstory for me was. How did they feel? Did they feel that they were betrayed, being manipulated and lied to? Did they feel like fools? Were they angry at her?


    This was likely what Margaret was thinking too. She probably felt ashamed for lying to them, and crushed about losing her new friends, not at all surprised that none would support her after finding out what she was, resigned to her fate.


    If this continues on, if I do nothing, no one will do anything and they¡¯ll take her.


    I heard a whisper in the back of my mind, save her, you must save her. I know that already, damn it!


    Fighting them will do no good. They¡¯ll simply see me as a mindless monster, and see Margaret as the same. I can¡¯t let that happen.


    There must be something else I can do!


    Margaret stood from her chair.


    No! You can''t do this! It can''t end like this! No! No! ¡°No!¡± My voice was coarse and quiet, as if from overuse, or lack thereof. ¡°She¡¯s not alone.¡± As I spoke more, my voice started to sound as it did when I was alive. It was a voice that carried across a room, even when I didn¡¯t intend for it to. ¡°I will always be with her.¡± I stood, lifted my arms, unbuckled the harnesses of my helmet, and removed it. ¡°I am a monster. I am undead. I am all of the things he accuses me of. But she is not. She only summoned me back from the dead because she was afraid, because your men had set her village ablaze. Because your men had killed her father in cold blood. And god knows how many more. And not even for the act of actual necromancy, for simple research of it! I killed those men, not her, I chose to do it! She only told me to save her father! I decided that the only way to keep her safe was to kill your men. And even after all that horror, she still chose to help people in need instead of scorning them. She is kind and strong! There is no one else I would rather have the privilege of serving!¡±


    The old knight took a few faltering step backwards, his body shook, but then an idea sparked in him and he regained his composure, and said pointing an accusatory finger at me with an outstretched hand, ¡°You¡¯re just under her spell! You are compelled to say this because of it!¡±


    ¡°Yes, I admit it."


    "Ha!" He smiled and laughed.


    "I am under her spell. I was brought back from the dead, compelled to always protect her, and made to obey her every command. But so what? That does not mean I cannot agree to it. That does not mean I cannot also wish to always protect her!¡±


    He fumbled back again. He was losing it, speaking without any of the calm he had earlier, and swinging his accusing arm wildly, ¡°Why!? Why would you want that!? She is a necromancer! She disturbed your eternal slumber, the natural coarse of things!¡±


    He really didn¡¯t understand. I had forgotten that such men existed in the world. ¡°I need no reason to protect a child.¡± I secured my helmet back over my head, and drew my sword.


    ¡°Well said!¡± shouted Durham who had unsheathed his blade.


    Serena had a look on her face, as if saying that''s right. She turned to Margaret and said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not believing in you,¡± and turned to me, ¡°both of you.¡± and she too pulled free her dagger from its scabbard.


    All else followed suit; everyone who had a weapon on hand drew it, not just Perrin, Soren, and the bandits, even other¡¯s who had never met us before did too.


    The eight knights of the order who were by the door were now behind Eustace. He fumbled on his helmet and drew his sword. His men followed suit. He shouted petulantly, ¡°The Order will not stand for the sheltering of a fugitive! You are all making yourselves enemies! And the Order shows no mercy to those deemed enemies!¡±


    ¡°And the Merchant''s Guild!¡± shouted Dietrich. ¡°You are making yourselves enemies of us as well!¡±


    ¡°And the Yellow Tails!¡± shouted Durham.


    ¡°And the Adventurer¡¯s Guild!¡± shouted Serena.


    All shouted, ¡°Aye!¡± in approval.


    All stood still. The tavern patrons held their weapons up. And the knights did the same.


    ¡°If she does not come with us willingly then we will have to use force.¡± said Eustace.


    ¡°That¡¯s kind of the idea, asshole. Bring it.¡± said Soren.


    Well said.


    ¡°Impudent little!¡± muttered the old knight.


    Eustace charged forward, along with his other knights. And I charged forward, along with everyone else.


    And the two sides collided. Metal clanged against metal in a cacophony of death accompanied by the maelstrom of battle cries and tossed bodies. My sword matched with the Eustace''s. We pushed against each other, trying to gain the advantageous footing, but we did not budge. He was strong despite his age, or perhaps because of it. And that¡¯s not all. I thought our side would have easily overtaken theirs. But it hadn¡¯t. They were being pushed back. Our numbers were easily twice as theirs. But they had full plate armor, making them practically impervious to most attacks. But that wasn¡¯t all. These men moved differently, with purpose and patience. They did not allow themselves to be surrounded, no, they kept back and swung their blades wide. They were stronger than us.


    But suddenly, one of them was crushed. Something had fallen on them. A giant green thing stood slightly larger than a man ought to be able to. At the ends of its extremities were wide, webbed things. And its arm and leg muscles were immense. And its head, it was one of a frog; it was a frog man. And those clothes¡­ It was Grendel! He went on all fours and leaped up from the knight and sprang up to the ceiling in a second¡¯s time. He was bouncing all over the room!


    I leaped back from my confrontation with Eustace, turned the angle of my blade, and leaped and slashed back at him. He was able to match the angle and block, but not without the cost of losing his footing and being pushed back. I used this advantage to cleave forward, creating an opening in their line of defense. Now three of the knights surrounded me.


    I had first noticed this during my first battle, and then fully realized it in my fray with the bear. I need not hold back, I need not fear, for I am already dead. When we fight, its a dance of offense and defense. One always cares for their vital areas and blocks or attempts to evade direct attacks to them. But I could simply unleash everything, and not stop, not even for breath.


    I swung at them madly, without allowing a moment for them to regain their footing. Over and over again, I kept on hammering at them. And they would attack me too. But it would not faze me, no, it wouldn¡¯t even delay me. Like a whirlwind, I tore through them.


    And like that, the battle was ours, we were pushing them back.


    But we couldn¡¯t kill them, or at least I couldn¡¯t. It would only give credence to their cause; a necromancer¡¯s knight killed more of our men, all necromancers must be killed.


    In the end, they lay beaten and bruised, and dragging each other out while screaming slurs and promises of payback.


    They were only bruised, but our side suffered more, bones were broken and blood was lost. Some would die, if untreated.


    Soren in particular, he had a wide gash across his chest. Serena knelt over him, ¡°You idiot! Why do you always have to rush into things!? Why can¡¯t you ever stay back and think!? Stupid Ren!¡±


    Soren coughed a laugh, causing specks of blood to stain his mouth, his voice was weak, and it took him great effort to focus his eyes, ¡°You haven¡¯t called me Ren since we were kids. And you haven¡¯t cried since they died.¡±


    ¡°Shut up, I¡¯m not crying!¡± She was, her tears dripped onto his face.


    ¡°Gross, you¡¯re getting it all over me.¡± He comically stuck his tongue out and coughed another laugh.


    ¡°Just stay still, we¡¯ll get some help. You¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°You were always a bad liar, Rena.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not lying!¡± she turned away from him and was about to shout something when a familiar yet different sound played. It was a song, originating from the bandit women Amelia, she was playing the lute and singing. A green mist emanated from around her and surrounded the wounded, causing a green aura to emanate from them. Soren¡¯s wound stopped bleeding, and was closin, but had not completely. So the powers of the old days hadn¡¯t disappeared. That lute, that was the only creation of the jinn¡¯s that stayed. Perhaps it was a present, an admiration of her skill.


    Now the the battle was won truly.


    I should find Margaret. I took a step forward, and the world spun. I had lurched and fallen on my knee. I tried with my other leg but it would not budge. I knelt sitting on the floor. Margaret rushed up to me with a big smile, ¡°We did it!¡± I looked down. The tips of my fingers were a bright gold light. Surface particles from it dispersed, floated up, and were disappearing in the air.


    ¡°Yes, we did.¡±


    ¡°You can talk! Why didn¡¯t you say anything before?!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t fully know why I couldn¡¯t before. But right now, I think the spell is breaking.¡± I lifted up my hand, showing her. The upper half of my fingers were gone now. It was spreading to my arms. They were becoming light. Perhaps I was taking damage even though I didn¡¯t feel it. Or maybe there was a time limit. Or was it a flat amount of energy, did I use it all up?


    Her expression changed immediately. ¡°No! You can¡¯t go! I feel like I just met you!¡±


    I shook my head, ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere. I¡¯ll always be with you, in your heart, as a memory.¡±


    She shook her head emphatically, ¡°I don¡¯t want that! I want you!¡± My arms were gone.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. You¡¯ll be okay. You have new protectors now. You have friends.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no, no! I still need you!¡±


    ¡°You will be okay.¡±


    My body was light, and in an instant, it dispersed. All that was left was my helmet. I watched from above, as a ghostly figure. My body was rising. I was returning, back to the life that happened after death. I heard Margaret mutter, as she clutched my helmet to her chest and cried, ¡°Idiot, I still need you.¡±


    I remember now, before I was summoned, brought back through necromancy, I heard a wish: one to be saved. A wish that coincided with mine: to save. I had failed in life. Thank you for allowing me to fulfill my wish in death.