Katie might call Timmy her master, but he was far more than that to her.
Timmy could well become the first Grand Necromancer in centuries to retire peacefully instead of being killed by a rival, an angry mob, the authorities, one of his own creations, or his own apprentice. That last one was especially common since Grand Necromancers tended to be paragons of necromantic evil who trained similarly twisted apprentices. Sam hoped that happened. Humans didn’t live very long, and it would upset him if something happened to Timmy. He might even have to go off and slaughter whoever was responsible. Timmy had done more than befriend him. He had helped him to make more friends, such as Katie and the others.
Katie played a few more hands of poker with the rats before calling an end to the game. She had an atrocious poker face, which the rats were trying to help her with. They had only been gambling with peanuts, and the winner, a crossbow-wielding rat, proudly gathered his winnings before beginning to munch on them. Katie changed into her nightclothes and sat down on her bed with a book. Sam drifted over, and a group of rats climbed onto her bed too. Most of them were young rats, and they were all eager for a story.
Katie was about to start when there was a loud knock on the doors leading to her chambers. Sam felt the familiar currents of fire magic and extruded some extra tentacles in case their visitor decided to get rowdy. A rat squeaked the identities of the visitors to Katie.
“Let them in,” Katie said. “And try not to antagonise her. I like my room better when it’s not on fire.”
Avraniel marched in like she owned the room while Spot padded along beside her. The dragon gave a happy trill when he saw Sam, and Sam reciprocated by turning into first a pyramid and then a cube. Most people were scared of Sam, and most people were scared of Spot. The two of them, however, got along just fine although Sam remained firmly of the opinion that cake was the greatest food in the world. Spot disagreed. He claimed cookies were better. Sam could forgive him. Spot might be a dragon, but he was still young. In time, Spot would learn to properly appreciate the greatness of cake.
“Spot wanted a story before he went to sleep, and most of the ones I know end in blood, tears, and guts everywhere.” The elf shrugged. “I figured you might know some other ones.”
“I know some,” Katie replied. “And I don’t mind having Spot here.”
Spot climbed onto the bed and slithered onto Katie’s lap like a winged snake as the rats rearranged themselves around him. Some of the braver ones even climbed onto Spot, with one particularly heroic rodent settling down on Spot’s snout.
“Good. Just send him back when you’re done. He knows the way.” The elf nodded at Sam before leaving the room. “Sam.”
Sam waved his tentacles in reply. He and Avraniel weren’t exactly friends, but they did respect each other. She was also very good at charming the cooks, and he’d reaped the benefits of that more than once. The elf might not be a great cook, but she had managed to provide the cooks with the recipes for several elf delicacies. Sam was especially fond of how the elves cooked quail.
“Okay,” Katie began as she flipped the book open. “I think you’ll like this one Sam. It’s about a friendly monster who lives under a princess’s bed.” She grinned at Spot. “There’s also a dragon, and he’s pretty friendly too.”
* * *
Sam drifted down through the lightless caverns of unhallowed doom that lay underneath the castle. Along the way, some of the hatchlings came forward to greet him. Timmy was a fairer master than his predecessors, so the hatchlings were allowed more freedom once they had proven they could control themselves. Since Timmy was too busy to evaluate the hatchlings himself, he left that task to Sam and some of the others. These hatchlings were nearly ready, and they were vying for a spot on one of the patrols Timmy regularly sent out to deal with bandits and other troublemakers. Eating villagers and servants was out of the question, but nobody would miss the occasional bandit or rabid wolf.
Sam always did his best to choose wisely. He didn’t want to betray the trust Timmy had put in him. The hatchlings continued to cluster around him, and he waved them away with his tentacles. He had business to attend to. They could discuss who got to go out on patrol later, and Timmy had mentioned something about possibly establishing a backup castle somewhere else. With the right rituals, it might be possible to station some of the hatchlings there, so they could help clear the area of any potential problems.
Continuing deeper into the caverns, Sam reached the true depths of the abyss where the borders between Timmy’s world and his began to grow hazy. There, in a place where space and time were so badly warped as to have almost no meaning, was one of the Others.
Countless years ago, this Other had been bound here by one of the greatest mages in history. Some fool had summoned him without taking the proper precautions, and the Other had gone on a rampage, crushing cities and annihilating entire armies before being confronted by a distant ancestor of Vicky’s. Sam knew because he’d been there when the Other had been bound, and Vicky’s magic reminded him very strongly of the magic he’d felt that day. Yet it wasn’t completely accurate to say that this Other had been bound here. No, the truth was that only a fraction of this Other’s body existed in this dimension to begin with, and that tiny fraction was what Vicky’s ancestor had managed to bind. But even a fraction of an Other was something awe inspiring.
Sam stilled. He had arrived.
Below him was a seemingly endless vista of warped, protoplasmic flesh that shifted and churned in time to the seething currents of primal energy that the Other consumed. The Other filled the cavern, and the cavern stretched into infinity, too vast for even Sam’s senses to properly comprehend. And the less Sam thought about the true extent of the Other, of what lay hidden in dimensions only he and his kind could perceive, the better. If this Other awakened, Timmy’s world would end, and Sam happened to quite like Timmy’s world the way it was.
Sam turned his attention to the magic – the faltering magic – that had bound this Other since that day so many years ago. Some of Sam’s fellows drifted alongside him. They spoke amongst themselves for a few moments, debating their course of action. Not yet, they agreed. It was not yet time for this Other to awaken. There were other worlds and dimensions – worlds and dimensions full of enemies – that might be more suitable places for this Other to awaken. Sam signalled his agreement and then reached out to supplement the binding magic with some of his own power. There. That ought to add another few centuries to this Other’s slumber although it might be time to ask Timmy about Vicky. The Supreme Cleric could provide them with a truly long-term solution by reinforcing her ancestor’s magic.
The others left, and Sam floated back up toward the castle. He could use a midnight snack, and what better midnight snack than cake? When he reached the kitchens, Timmy was already there.
“Don’t worry,” Timmy said, passing Sam a chocolate cake. “I had the cooks make one just for you.”
Gardening
(Set After Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire)
Old Man made his way through his bonsai tree nursery with calm, steady movements. There was no need to rush here. If anything, rushing would only be counterproductive. Bonsai trees were demanding plants, especially when they were young. They had to be handled with gentleness and care. An overzealous approach was destined to lead to failure, and bonsai trees were extremely rare in this part of the world. The more common variants could still be bought for a princely sum, but the more unusual variants he prized, such as the one that transformed into his sword, could not be bought for anything as pedestrian as money. Acquiring those usually meant paying a price in blood, sweat, and tears since they were typically found in the roughest, most inhospitable wilds in areas teeming with deadly creatures. It wasn’t unusual for adventurers and bonsai tree enthusiasts to come to blows while searching for a rare specimen when all they usually had to go on were rumours, hearsay, and legend.
To keep uninvited guests away from his bon
sai trees, he had asked Timmy to install various runes, seals, and other security measures. The nursery was also guarded by some of the necromancer’s more discrete but formidable zombies. A zombie basilisk-chameleon was not only exceptionally difficult to detect but also exceedingly deadly. It was also unlikely to harm the nursery inadvertently, as opposed to something like a zombie hydra-salamander. Turning potential intruders to stone was far less likely to damage the nursery than shooting fire and acid everywhere. Timmy had even turned it into a teaching moment, inviting Katie to first observe and then participate as he had put each of the various security measures in place. As necromancers, both Timmy and Katie understood the importance of security. An insecure lair was begging for trouble, and both of them intended to live as long and successfully as possible.
The castle’s resident ninja rats also did their part. Ah, they were such interesting creatures, the ninja rats. He had encountered similar rodents in his youth although they had belonged to different clans. One clan had been able to turn intangible, a most useful skill for ninja rats to have. Another clan had possessed the ability to teleport over short distances. There had even been one clan that could fly. In those long ago days of constant raging war, Old Man had not been able to properly appreciate ninja rats. Too many of them had served human clans opposed to the people Old Man served, so they had often been his enemies.
The ninja rats of his homeland had only needed to meet him once in battle before realising that facing him in anything even close to a fair fight was a death sentence. He had been less forgiving in his youth, and the fires of war had burnt brightly within him. Part of him was proud that no sword had taken more lives of the enemy than his, but another part of him grieved at the deaths of so many of his countrymen. Many of them had been good people. Their only mistake was being on the wrong side. Old age had brought him wisdom and serenity, but they had come at great cost. The fires of war inside him had burnt down to ashes and cinders. His homeland was nothing more than a distant memory now, and it would remain that way for however many years were left to him.
Old Man smiled ruefully. Once, thinking of his homeland would have filled him with rage and sorrow. Now, very little angered him, and he no longer bristled at what he could not change. He had made his choices, and as painful as they were, they had also been the right choices. Those choices had also led him here, to a castle full of friends and comrades he had never expected but had grown to treasure.
The ninja rats of the castle were familiar with the ways of his homeland, and he strongly suspected that at least some of them had an inkling of whom he was. None of them had said anything, but there were a few who looked at him with knowing eyes. Regardless of what they did or did not know, the rats had still taken a liking to him, and he had earned their trust through the missions he had taken with the others. They had offered to provide additional security and to help with tending to his bonsai trees in exchange for taking a few cuttings when the time was right.
He had accepted their offer. The rats had not shared their full history with him, but he had his own suspicions. There were tales from before he had been born, stories of a nobleman renowned for his honour and valour – and the invisible ninja rats that served him. This nobleman had been well respected by everyone despite the wars that had engulfed the land. But one day, he was betrayed. Surrounded and left with no hope of victory, the nobleman gave an order that astonished those who followed him. Instead of ordering his loyal servants and retainers to die beside him in a glorious charge upon his enemies, he ordered them to live, to find new masters worthy of their skills and devotion. Such orders were unheard of. Old Man could scarcely imagine how the rats must have felt. If they were anything like the other ninja rats Old Man had met, then he was certain they had sworn oaths to die at their master’s side rather than desert him. To live while their master fell – the shame and dishonour would have been too great for words. Yet the rats, loyal to a fault, would have obeyed.
If Old Man’s suspicions were right, the rats had wandered for generations, searching for a master worthy of their skills and loyalty. It would have been a hard life as they went from master to master, taking odd jobs and journeying across the world. There would have been little respite for them. They would have had neither friends to offer help nor a place to call home. But now the rats were here. The castle was their home, and Katie was the master they’d been waiting for.
Some might have worried about the loyalty of the ninja rats. Old Man knew better. They were honourable folk, and the other clans of ninja rats that he’d met had all been unflinchingly loyal to their masters. If they had pledged themselves to Katie, the castle, and its people, then the ninja rats would gladly die before they failed in their duties a second time. Even now, two of them were standing guard outside the nursery as a third and fourth helped tend to the plants.
“How does it look?” Old Man asked as he carefully watered one of the bonsai trees. This one was a water-hungry variety, but he had found it growing on a cliff battered by the sea and guarded by a vicious sea serpent. Instead of normal water, it preferred seawater.
The rat beside one of the other bonsai trees was a middle-aged rodent with dark grey fur. She gave a small squeak as she moved on to the next plant, and the dim glow of magic surrounded her. Her magic helped plants to grow, but it wasn’t strong enough to be useful to a farmer or an orchardist. For bonsai trees, however, it was perfect, and her excellent control minimised the odds of any unfortunate mishaps taking place.
“I’m glad to hear that they’re doing well.” Old Man examined the plants the rat had been working on intently. Yes, they were doing very well indeed.
Setting aside his help with security, Timmy had also aided Old Man in other ways. The necromancer was brilliant when it came to logistics, and with his help, Old Man had been able to acquire not only the finest soils but also all of the other things he needed to ensure the health and growth of his plants. Timmy had even been able to acquire a large quantity of soil from Old Man’s homeland after hearing that it was the ideal soil for some of his bonsai trees. Old Mad had no idea how Timmy had managed that, but the necromancer had merely smiled and mentioned that he knew a lot of people. The rat squeaked again, and Old Man chuckled.
“Yes, I do believe that one there will be ready to offer a cutting in a month or so. You should speak to your clan’s leaders about what to do.”
As the rat continued to make her way through the nursery with a much younger rat that had similar magic – her child perhaps – Old Man finished checking the bonsai trees and went back to his research. He had heard rumours of another rare bonsai tree, and he was collecting as much information as he could to see if a kernel of truth still remained after harsher scrutiny. If there were a chance to acquire another rare bonsai tree, he would certainly take it. His new situation made things far easier. Once he had identified a likely location, he could simply borrow a zombie wyvern and fly as close to the bonsai tree as was practical or safe. One bonsai tree he’d acquired had been in the territory of a mighty dragon. Taking a zombie wyvern there would have been suicide since dragons zealously guarded the skies of their territory.
Old Man might have to be careful about bringing any of the others. He wasn’t worried about them being harmed – they were all formidable in their own way – but they had an alarming tendency to blow up, burn, or otherwise destroy their surroundings whenever they went on a mission. To be fair, Katie and Timmy at least tried to minimise the property damage they caused, and Gerald only blew things up by accident or on orders. Avraniel, however, revelled in destruction, and Spot might end up eating the bonsai tree if he came along. Perhaps he could bring Amanda. The ancient vampire was certainly less inclined toward explosions and mayhem than the others, and she might know a thing or two about the area due to all of the travels she’d undertaken during her long, long life.
He’d think about it.
* * *
Timmy looked at the old woman on the other side of his desk. He
wasn’t feeling the least bit comfortable, and it had nothing to do with his chair being an ancient artefact of terrible power that happened to be made of bone. Tamara was the oldest of the castle’s maids although not the most senior in terms of position. She was older than his master would have been had a zombie python-goat not eaten him, which meant she’d been at the castle for an incredibly long time. If he remembered correctly, she was going to be eighty later in the year. Most maids would have retired years ago to enjoy a life with their children and grandchildren, especially after working as hard as Tamara had for as long as she had.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Timmy asked gently. There were times when he liked to play the villainous necromancer, like when Katie was being obnoxious or refusing to eat her vegetables, but this was not one of those times.
Tamara was unable to meet his gaze. She knew why she was here. Finally, she gave a small, shaky nod.
“It has been brought to my attention that you can no longer complete all of your assigned duties.” Timmy paused. Because he wasn’t a jerk like his master, he never found it easy to say things like this. “It has also been brought to my attention that your inability to complete your assigned duties has gone from being an occasional mishap to a regular occurrence. It may be time for you to consider retirement, Tamara.”
Again, all he got was a shaky nod. He sighed. Tamara had been here when he’d first become his master’s apprentice, and he got the feeling that she’d been here even before his master had become the ruler of the castle.
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