“What?” Gadram asked, confused. “What was him?”
“How good is he against illusions?” Renny asked.
“I don’t know,” Chase said. “Why?”
Next to them, the plug shook again, and a nail inched upward from where it was holding the wood down. They stared at it. Greta took out her hammer and smashed it back in… but the thumping from the other side redoubled, and more nails started inching out, bit by bit.
Renny hopped up to the chest of drawers. “We’ll have to chance it. I’ll put an illusion up there to make it look like the roof’s bare. Just try not to move around too much and keep your voices down.” He studied the hole above him, then waved his hands. “Phantasmal Picture.”
Chase checked her status and winced. Not enough fortune left for another shot of Foresight. She looked at Greta, then shuddered. I’m not going to watch her die again. Which leaves only one option, here. “Follow me, then,” Chase whispered and scrambled up through the hole before she could lose her nerve.
No bolt of dark energy fried her.
No alarmed voices shouted.
Chase was met only with silence and shadows, and she inched herself out carefully among the sloped shingles, trying not to rush, despite the hammering on the plug below and the splintering that she could hear after every strike.
Behind her, Greta scrambled up, and Chase winced at the noise, so loud in her ears despite the groaning, honking, and hammering from below. But the zombie racket helped to cover her sister’s own lack of grace, it seemed, for she got through without trouble.
Last of all was Gadram, hauling Renny along. And once he was up, Greta looked to him and said, “Hold me in place, please.” Puzzled, the veteran burglar did so… and looked a lot less puzzled when Greta let go of the roof, bracing her feet on the shingles as she hauled out her carpentry tools and got to work.
Ten seconds crawled by, and the hammering and sawing noises seemed like thunder to Chase’s twitching ears. Twenty seconds, and she was sure they were going to be found, sure that this risk was one risk too much.
But at precisely thirty seconds the hole in the roof vanished, as the now torn and battered shingles and beams that had made up the plug now returned to their former place, now with a few bits of decomposing fingers, clown teeth, and rubber noses jammed into them.
Chase sagged in relief and almost fell off the roof.
But as she scrambled to keep a hold, her worries vanished as words appeared in her sight.
You are now a level 3 Archer!
DEX+3
PER+3
STR+3
You are now a level 4 Archer!
DEX+3
PER+3
STR+3
You are now a level 6 Oracle!
CHA+3
LUCK+3
WIS+3
All of a sudden the roof got a lot easier to cling to, Chase’s vision sharpened and pierced through more of the dim light of the evening, and she felt her body lose every bit of tired exhaustion that it had built up over the course of this very trying day.
It was a good feeling but a disturbing one. Because she wanted to feel it again, and again. It was almost too good a feeling, and her vastly-boosted wisdom was telling her that that was actually sort of dangerous in its own way.
Chase narrowed her eyes and took a second to try and talk some sense into herself. You know what else is dangerous? Zombies! And Necromancers! So shut up long-term worried Chase, and let’s focus on being getting through tonight, Chase. Okay? Kay. Glad we had this little talk.
Amazingly enough it worked, and Chase shook off lingering doubts, pulling her mind back to the task at hand. She looked over to her companions…
…and found them looking at her, eyes white and wide in the darkness. Well, all save for Renny’s eyes. Still glass, still green in the flickering firelight.
Wait.
“Flickering firelight?” Chase asked and turned again, rising up slowly, remembering to avoid fast motions while she was in the illusion. Her earlier worry returned with friends, because she felt there was no way this could be good.
And across the village, the Dewdrop Inn burned, shedding its light on the dozens of zombies milling around outside of the blazing structure.
CHAPTER 20: ENTER THE RINGMASTER
Chase stared at the fire. It wasn’t a huge blaze, not yet, but three different parts of the roof burned and coughed out black smoke, heavy in the moonlit night. Clearly someone had been busy.
She couldn’t see any defenders, not from this angle. Remembering how the magical blast had fried Greta, she had a suspicion she knew why she couldn’t see any defenders and hoped that nobody had died.
Well, no, that wasn’t completely true. The Necromancer could die, that was fine. But as lucky as she was, she was pretty sure she wasn’t that lucky.
The Necromancer.
“Renny,” she said, keeping her voice low as she watched the very unfunny undead clowns pace around the burning inn, battering at doors, and trying to push through windows, “what kind of magic blasts can Necromancers throw?”
“Um… I’m not a Necromancer.”
“I know, but you’re more magical than me, and you’re smart. Maybe you know something about this?”
“I mean, maybe.” Renny tugged on his tail, seemingly nervous. “There weren’t any Necromancers in my graduating class in the Rumpus Room. But I think some of the lower grades had a few. Uh…”
“Most Necromancers get only one attack spell. It’s called Drain Life,” Gadram recited.
Surprised, the two halvens and the golem turned to look at him.
“Benefits of a dwarven education. Defense against the dark arts and all that.”
“Oh, perfect!” Chase caught herself at the last moment and turned her happy cry into a whisper. A loud one, but still. “What’s the best defense?”
“An axe to the filthy Necromancer’s head.” Gadram smiled. “They can’t cast when they’re dead. Well, most of ‘em, anyway.” Gadram shrugged. “Didn’t say it was a very long class. Or a hard one.”
Chase rolled her eyes. Then she shrugged. It was more information than she’d had a minute ago, anyway. Might as well see if he learned anything else useful. “Okay. Drain Life. Do you know anything more about that spell?”
“That’d be more his department,” Gadram jerked a thumb towards Renny.
“Drain life. Um…” Renny tugged on his tail again. “It’s an attack spell. Necromancers aren’t known for attack spells. It probably wouldn’t be more complex than a wizard’s spell. And those are pretty complicated. I guess it’s a basic bolt that… drains life?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Actually, if it has drain in its name, that indicates that the drained life is going somewhere. Maybe to the Necromancer. Maybe to another undead that he chooses.”
“Okay. But listen, would the Necromancer have to see his target?” She didn’t want to say his name. Vaffanculo meant something very rude in the old tongue, and you weren’t supposed to say the names of dark wizards anyway. Some of them had ways to hear you or something like that. Or it was bad luck. She’d never been clear on the why of it, really.
Renny slowly nodded his head. “Yes, he’d probably have to see whoever he was shooting the spell at. Especially if the life was supposed to go somewhere after it got drained. That’s complicated, in magic terms. You wouldn’t want to throw something in there that allowed targeting, sight-unseen.”
“All right. I had a vision of him blasting Greta if I sent her out first,” Chase said.
“What? Was that the whole thumbs up thing?” Greta said. “He blasted me?”
“Keep your voice down. It’s okay. The illusion saved us. But if he needs sight to cast that spell, that means he has to be in a place where he can see this side of the roof. We don’t know where he is, but we know where he isn’t.” Chase looked up to the sloped shingles that they were all bracing against.
“Which means we can rule out half the village,” Gadram said. “S
mart.”
“Thanks. Unfortunately, I don’t know how that helps us. Not yet. Give me a second to think.”
“I know how it helps us,” Gadram said, tapping his sheathed dagger. “We find him and do some defense against the dark arts. Got no axe, but this’ll do. With some backup, I hope.” He glanced down to Renny.
“Wait,” Chase said. “We have no idea what we’re heading out into.”
“Didn’t mean you two. Meant him and me.”
“You’d have to leave the illusion to do that.”
“Which is why I only want just him and me.” Gadram looked her up and down. “You did a hell of a job when it was talkin’ time, got us free and out of that room. But now ain’t the time for talkin’. Now’s the time for killing. And that’ll take sneaking and stabbing, and I don’t reckon that’s yer thing.”
“No. No it isn’t. But…”
“Where are you?” A voice like something drowned in a well and left there for a week burbled. “Where are you little morsels?”
Chase froze, and her friends followed suit. From the window that Gadram had originally used as an entry point, something leaned out into the night. Another clown, quite dead, but unlike the other ones, this one’s greasepainted skin was drawn and withered against its bones. Its eyes were blazing blue orbs, and as the thing twisted to bring them to bear on the roof, Chase realized that there was no way to hide, no place to go up here.
But it looked over and past them without hesitation, then scanned the ground below. It gave a howl that seemed to come from a distance, then leaped out of the window and rolled as it hit the ground. It was a strange and unnatural sight, baggy clothes flapping, clawed feet shoeless, unlike the rest of its brethren.
The howl didn’t stop, going on for half a minute, and Chase watched as zombies poured out of the broken door. Fourteen in total, after all was said and done, and the halven felt an odd spike of pride that they’d accounted for so many. The pride faded as the blue-eyed undead fell to all fours and bounded off toward the next building over, leaping through a window. The rest of the zombies followed, moving as a pack.
“So that’s how the Necromancer’s controlling so many,” Renny’s voice was barely a whisper. “He’s high enough level to make wights.”
“That was terrifying,” Greta squeaked, and Chase slapped her hand over her sister’s mouth.
In a low whisper, Chase asked, “Your illusion saved us. Can you extend it to the edge of the roof and the window?”
“I’ll have to recast it, but yes. What are you thinking?”
“You go and hunt the Necromancer. Greta and I get back in through the window. Then when it’s safe we’ll run to the church.”
“Why?”
Chase nodded over at the burning inn. The flames were higher now, two of the burning patches combined in the middle and growing. “I know Dad. He’ll withdraw everyone into the cellar once it’s unsafe to fight. We can meet them there, and help.”
“If there’s no undead in the church,” Gadram pointed out. “If there are…”
“We’ll run away. I know the area. Plenty of places to hide. Besides, that thing… wight?”
“Yes, a wight,” Renny was certain.
“It was literally three feet from us and didn’t sense us. That was your illusion, right?”
“Yes. I went for the senses of sight and smell. That seemed to work.”
“Okay. So it needs to see things too, probably. Why smell?”
“Some people think zombies can smell people. I can smell people. It seemed like a good idea.”
“I must smell like something horrible,” Chase said, then frowned. “No time to worry about that. Do the illusion thing, okay?”
“Okay. We’ll meet you at the church later if we can’t take him out safely,” Renny promised. “Phantasmal Picture.”
The air around the roof rippled, just a bit. Chase would have mistaken it for stray smoke from the inn, if she hadn’t been three feet from the edge of it. When it was done, she looked at Greta and offered a hand. “I’ll swing you in. Just like that time in the apple tree!”
“That time when you dropped me, and I broke my collarbone?” Greta squinted. “Only this time you’ll drop me down next to a horde of hungry zombies?”
“No. Nothing like that, I promise,” Chase said.
Greta took her hand and started to swing.
“Besides, that’s barely a mob. Nothing like a horde,” Chase said, when she was sure her sister would get to safety. Greta’s eyes snapped open wide… and then she was through the window, and a soft thump signified her landing.
Chase followed, and Gadram held her hand as she eased through. Then Greta had her leg from inside, and Chase twisted, shielded her head, and choked back a gasp as she felt her forearm bump down onto the windowsill. Then she was through, rubbing her wrist and checking for damage as she sat sprawled on the floor. Greta sat next to her, breathing hard.
Movement on the roof, and a dwarven voice muttered “Stealthy Step,” and then there was only silence. Silence and the sound of glass breaking in the general store.
“Jooli’s going to be really mad when she gets back and finds the store all torn up,” Greta whispered.
“I’m okay with that because it means Jooli will be alive.” Chase pushed herself up. “Come on. Take it slow, take it careful, and follow my lead.”
A use of foresight got her a skill up and prevented them from being surprised by a roaming zombie. Another use ten seconds later got them out the door, and a third one saw them safely across the street.
Chase marked another set of blue glowing dots in the distance, roaming ahead of a band of shuffling silhouettes walking along the treeline closest to the village. He’s making sure no one escapes, Chase realized.
Then they were at the backdoor of the church. It hung open, leading into darkness. “Foresight,” Chase said and saw her ghostly image head into the church.
And then it did something entirely unexpected.
Chase’s future self came back, pointed in through the doorway and shrugged. She held up a hand and wiggled it, turning it up and down.
Something good or something bad? Don’t know?
Well, she didn’t see herself being eaten by zombies, so that was a start. Time snapped back into joint, and Chase gathered her courage. “Wait here,” she told Greta and headed through the doors.
The door between the kitchen and the worship hall was open, and peering through it, she made out candles. And moving between them, stooping gingerly to avoid rafters, was a tall man. A familiar tall man. Glass glinted in his hands as he stooped under a pew and came up with the bottle of scumble that Jooger Honeybigger hid there for long sermons.
Feeling that band of pain in her chest tightening, Chase moved back out to the doorway and flapped her hand in the signals she’d seen.
Greta, beautiful Greta, could read Chase almost as well as Chase could read herself. The big girl nodded, and the two sisters moved into the kitchen, using all the stealth they could bring to bear on the task.
But it wasn’t enough.
Chase’s foot crunched on a bit of broken crockery. Immediately the figure straightened up, turning his face into the candlelight, and glaring over his handlebar mustaches. “Your master told you to stay out of here,” he called, voice harsh in the darkness. “Shoo!” Then his gaze fell, and Chase saw his eyes widen in surprise. “You!”
“Silent Activation Foresight,” Chase mouthed and got the answer she was looking for. With exaggerated slowness, she shut the wrecked door behind her, swinging it around on its one remaining twisted hinge, and blocking casual observation from the outside. There was still a big gap that anyone could peer through, but she thought it should do to keep from being spotted by the roaming undead.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Thomasi said, taking a few steps closer. He halted as Greta brought up a knife, and raised his hands. “Nobody should be here.”
“This is our home,” Chase said, stepping t
hrough the kitchen door. Then she squinted, noticing something odd. “Where’s your hat?”
“He’s got it. Vaffanculo.” The rude word didn’t fit the church at all, and Chase blushed, just a bit.
“Could you call him the Necromancer? Please?”
Thomasi nodded, then he set the candle down and paced along the sides of the hall, peering out the large windows. “Stay towards the altar. You shouldn’t be seen from there.”
He was walking a little unevenly, as he went. “Are you injured?” Chase asked, concerned.
Thomasi chuckled. “Not physically, no. Va… The Necromancer threatened me with torture, but I laughed in his face. Ha!” He returned to the pew and reached out for the bottle.
“Diagnose,” Chase whispered, as a sudden suspicion struck her.
And sure enough, the words confirmed what she’d noticed.
PER +1
Thomasi
Condition: Tipsy
“What are you doing?” she started forward, before remembering his warning.
“I’m drinking,” Thomasi said, before uncorking the bottle and taking a serious pull. He coughed a bit, then went in for a second chug. “This’ll make this whole debacle go faster.”
“That’s scumble,” Chase wrinkled her nose. You’re going to swill yourself unconscious if you keep going.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do, here?”
“Wallow in self-pity, is what it looks like,” Chase said, finally putting her finger on that tone in his voice. “Instead of helping to stop what you started!”
“Stop what I started? Stop what I started!” He put the bottle down with solid ‘thump’, and two more empty bottles rolled away across the floor as he surged to his feet. As expected, he’d been doing this a while. “I didn’t start this mess! This is all your fault!”
Big Trouble Page 25