Unconventional Heroes 2 - Two Necromancers, an Army of Golems, and a Demon Lord

by L. G. Estrella

  It was well into the evening when they finally gathered around a campfire to talk. James looked distinctly uncomfortable sitting on an old tree stump eating stew while the rats sharpened a surprisingly large arsenal of weaponry only a few feet away, but he could hardly refuse to eat without looking weak. This was one occasion when Timmy was glad that the rats were all a bit crazy.

  “Your apprentice’s glasses have pink frames,” James said. “You do realise that, don’t you?” Katie glared.

  Timmy hated agreeing with James about anything, but he had a point. Pink was not a good colour for necromancers. “Yes, I’ve tried to get her to go with black, but what can you do?” He shrugged. “Kids these days.”

  “And her rat is wearing a pink jacket and waving a sword around.”

  “In Rembrandt’s defence, he doesn’t wear that jacket all the time, and he’s probably better with a sword than the warriors in your escort.” Timmy rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be used to weird things by now? You’re a member of the Council. I’ve seen you kill a group of bandits with a cup of water.” Timmy had to admit that it was still one of the most impressive things he’d ever seen. “A ninja rat cannot be the strangest thing you’ve ever seen.”

  James had another spoonful of stew and then set his bowl down. He folded his arms across his chest and stretched his long legs out in front of him as his escort settled down beside the rats. One of the mages bumped one of the rodents, and the rat squeaked a curse before throwing something out into the darkness. It exploded, and clods of dirt sailed through the air.

  “While I’m supervising the clean up here,” James said, batting away some debris with his magic. “Your group will be heading deeper into the mountains. There is someone there that we want you to either recruit or neutralise.”

  “From the expression on your face, I’m guessing this someone is even more psychotic and deranged than Avraniel.”

  “Hey!” the elf snarled.

  Timmy ducked under one burning fist. “I’m only stating the facts, and trying to punch my head off is not helping your case.”

  “I’ll help your case!” The elf summoned a sizzling ball of fire.

  Timmy shook his head. “What does that even mean?”

  “Please, don’t antagonise her,” Gerald groaned. He looked decidedly the worse for wear, and he’d taken to carrying a bucket with him in case he threw up again. “And can everyone please stop yelling. My head hurts.”

  James cleared his throat. “In any case, the person you have to deal with is a top priority target. The Council believes that he will either become a powerful asset or a grave threat in the near future. You thus have the authority to do whatever is necessary, should trouble arise.”

  Katie frowned and shifted slightly as Rembrandt hopped onto her lap. James stared as the rat went back to sharpening his blade, Katie’s fingers moving through his fur. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we have the authority to capture, convince, or even kill whoever this person is, depending on how things go.” Timmy pursed his lips and peered into his stew. “Which is not a good sign. At the very least, they’re probably as dangerous as Avraniel.”

  “Hey! There is no way that they’ll be as dangerous as me.”

  “The Council has determined that this person is indeed roughly as dangerous as you, elf.” James smiled thinly.

  “Don’t keep us hanging. Whom are we dealing with?” Timmy asked.

  James’s lips curled. “Lord Martin Geoffrey Taylor. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

  Timmy winced. “Oh, I’ve heard of him. Nothing good, though.”

  The first time that Timmy had heard about Lord Taylor was when he’d wiped out one of Timmy’s rivals to seize control of a stronghold in the mountains to the north. That alone was impressive since it had involved the annihilation of the other necromancer’s forces, which Timmy had estimated to include thousands of zombies and hundreds of mercenaries. There had been no survivors, save for a few servants who had escaped and immediately begun to rant about an impending apocalypse and how a swiftly approaching era of infinite darkness and boundless woe would envelop the entire world. Timmy had not been overly concerned at the time – if he had a copper coin for every time someone said the world was ending he’d have been an incredibly rich man – although he had paid several people in the surrounding area to keep an eye out for trouble, just in case Lord Taylor decided to go after any other necromancers.

  And Lord Taylor had.

  He’d gotten rid of his two closest neighbours, quietly building up one of the largest swathes of independent territory in the Broken Mountains that bordered the northeast of Everton. It was still technically Everton’s land, but the terrain was too treacherous for conventional warfare, and Everton had greater concerns elsewhere. It was up to the dwarves, long-standing allies of Everton that also occupied the mountains, to stop him from expanding even further. The dwarves had been grumbling about him for years, wondering when he’d finally go after them instead of launching the occasional raid. Timmy doubted they’d have to wait much longer. With war brewing in the south, Lord Taylor would have a perfect opportunity to expand his territory.

  Given how Lord Taylor’s last expansion had ended – he had sent the severed heads of his enemies to the Council as a welcoming gift along with an oddly polite card and a box of chocolates – Timmy had done some digging. It hadn’t been hard to find some dirt. Timmy had a good shovel and a pile of gold. Lord Taylor wasn’t a necromancer. No, he was something that most people found even worse, which wasn’t easy given how unpopular necromancers tended to be. He was a demon summoner – a person who made extensive pacts with demons and regularly called them up to do his bidding. If the reports Timmy had read were correct, he’d even offered up some of his own people for possession and sacrifice.

  Timmy was not some naïve boy. He had a few demons that he could call upon, but he generally preferred to steer clear of them. Zombies were fairly straightforward creatures. He animated them, and they either obeyed or tried to bite his face off. There was not a great deal of trickery or cunning involved.

  Demons were a different story. Demons were often extremely intelligent, vastly cunning, and better at finding loopholes in a contract than even a bureaucrat like Gerald. As handy as they could be, they were generally more trouble than they were worth, and the same applied to those who relied on them. Anyone who could win the loyalty of demons and actually keep it was probably enormously bloodthirsty, phenomenally evil, or both.

  “Lord Taylor is bad news,” Timmy said quietly. “Very bad news.”

  “Yes, he is. He’s also very powerful.” James’s expression darkened. “If I had my way, we’d send in a strike team and execute him for everything he’s done. As much as I dislike you, I don’t like wasting useful people, and you’ve proven to be quite useful. You’re also loyal to this country and – despite your bouts of strange behaviour – sane. I cannot say the same for Lord Taylor.” His jaw clenched. “Do you want to know what he did to the bureaucrat we sent to evaluate him?”

  “No,” Gerald said quickly, already an alarming shade of green. “I’d rather not know.”

  “Well, I would,” Timmy said. “I want to know what we’re dealing with here.”

  “He sent him back in pieces.” James paused. “In a sack with a smiley face on it, which is why I won’t shed a tear if it becomes necessary to kill him. Capture him if you like, but don’t hesitate to kill him. The Council’s representatives cannot be treated like that without punishment. However, some of my fellow councillors, Victoria not amongst them, believe that he can be persuaded.” He shook his head and sighed. “Gerald, calm down.” The other man was trembling like a leaf. “It’s not like you’re going on your own. Anyway, Victoria also uncovered some interesting information, which may go a long way to explaining his behaviour.”

  “You’re being very forthcoming,” Timmy said. “It worries me.”

  “I would rather we sent you on a mission t
hat involved you wading neck-deep through sewerage, but this is a serious matter. Lord Taylor is, according to Victoria and her sources, half demon. She suspects that his father was the Demon Lord Gragnak.”

  “You’re right. That is a problem.” Timmy scratched his chin. “I’m definitely going to need my anti-demon shovel for this mission.”

  Avraniel stomped one foot on the ground. The campfire roared. “Who is this Gragnak bastard, and do we get to kill him too because it sounds as if we’re going to have to kill this Lord Taylor jerk?”

  “Hopefully, we won’t have to face Gragnak,” Timmy said. “And I think you’re probably right about Lord Taylor. He won’t want to come quietly. He’s not like you. You just want your own slice of the world, a big pile of gold, and for everyone to stop telling you what to do. Lord Taylor wants to conquer the world. As for Gragnak, he’s one of several powerful demon lords that have made appearances in the mortal world over the past century or so.” He tossed James an inquiring look. “We necromancers keep tabs on our demon-summoning friends – too many of them try to usher in some kind of apocalypse. It’s a real hassle to deal with, and there’s always a big mess to clean up. But I was under the impression that Gragnak didn’t have any children before Victoria’s order banished him back into the depths of the demon realm.”

  “We believed so too, but Victoria insists, and we both know that she is very rarely wrong about things of this nature.” James shuddered. Both he and Timmy had seen firsthand what horrors resulted when they ignored Victoria’s advice on matters of a spiritual nature. “Remember that half-demon at the academy?”

  Timmy shuddered too. That had been messy. “That was not a pleasant experience for either of us. I remember there was a lot of fire, plenty of screaming, and Victoria had to wade in with that magic of hers, exorcising things left, right, and centre.”

  “So what does this half-demon son of a bitch do? If he’s the son of a demon lord, he should have powers of his own, right?” Avraniel shrugged. “I mean that’s how it works with elves. Not always of course – I mean look at me. I’ve never met another elf with magic as awesome as mine.”

  Katie took her glasses off, and one of the rats handed her a cloth to wipe them with. She smiled and patted the rodent on the head before letting it climb into her lap. “I can answer that.”

  “Of course, you can, twerp. Go on. Out with it.”

  “Gragnak is one of the more powerful demon lords. He presides over treachery, plotting, and general malevolence. Traitors, saboteurs, and spies all consider him their patron demon. He is extremely clever and very, very powerful.”

  “That’s not too bad, right?” Avraniel laughed. “I mean if he relies on trickery and deceit, he can’t be that tough in a straight up fight. If Lord Taylor is his son, he’s probably a pushover in a proper fight, and it’s not like we’ll let him pull a fast one on us.”

  Katie winced. “You’d think so, but when he isn’t taking a human form, Gragnak usually appears as a gigantic demon monster that is largely impervious to most forms of physical, magical, and spiritual attack. He prefers to rely on trickery and deceit, but he seized control of large portions of the demon realm by ripping his competition limb from limb and devouring them. If Lord Taylor is anything like his father, we might be in for a fight.” Gerald grabbed hold of his bucket and stumbled off into the darkness. “Uh… can you go with him, Rembrandt? I don’t think he’s dealing with this very well.” The rat nodded and went after the bureaucrat.

  “So he might like hand-to-hand combat?” Avraniel smirked, and little wisps of fire gleamed in the air around her. “Sounds fun. I’ve never kicked a half-demon’s ass before, and at least I won’t have to worry about breaking him before I’ve had some fun.” She snorted. “You people are so fragile. One punch to the head, and you die. It’s kind of annoying.”

  “It won’t be that easy.” Timmy was already running through his mental checklist of anti-demon measures, most of which were also applicable to half-demons. His master had dealt with demons frequently, so he knew what he had to do. Unfortunately, most of the quickest ways to deal with demons were exceedingly unpleasant and required a lot more human sacrifice than Timmy was comfortable with. He could always go the holy route although he wasn’t sure how well that would turn out.

  Oh, he knew all the prayers – Vicky had been his best friend at the academy, and he’d had who knew how many clerics try to exorcise/banish him over the years – but he doubted he’d get a response. He wasn’t exactly in the Lord of the Blessed Dawn’s good books. Still, he could give it a try. If worse came to worst, he’d let Avraniel tire Lord Taylor out and then get him with a shovel to the back of the head. If that didn’t work, he’d just have to keep hitting Lord Taylor until he went down and stayed down.

  “So, what exactly is our mission? I’m sure there’s more to it than simply dealing with Lord Taylor,” Timmy said. He frowned. Had he left his anti-demon shovel at home, or had he remembered to have Gerald store it away with his magic?

  James folded his hands together. He was all business now, and Timmy was reminded, once again, that his nemesis was nothing if not good at his job. “We need your group to infiltrate his territory and assess his level of military preparedness. We need to know how many troops he has, what kind of troops they are, and where they are stationed. If it turns out we’ve overestimated him, then you can back out – but only if you’ve confirmed that his forces do not represent a threat. Any intelligence you can get is valuable. If we don’t have to deal with him now, we will have to deal with him later. If possible, you are to seek out a meeting with him – this will likely require subterfuge – and determine whether or not he is mentally stable and amenable to our cause. If you cannot persuade him to at least remain neutral, or if he shows signs of insanity, then either capture him or eliminate him.”

  “And if we get all of that done, what do we get?” Avraniel asked.

  “You will be helping Everton –”

  “Yes, yes, yes. Go Everton! Hail the Council!” Avraniel bared her teeth. “This is going to be a tough mission, you jerk, and I demand to be paid accordingly.”

  “Should you succeed, your compensation will be generous. Lord Taylor has angered a lot of people. Some of them have decided to add their funds to the Council’s for this particular mission.” James handed her a contract. “Victoria has also managed to convince the other councillors to adhere to a more… lucrative contract. For reasons I still don’t understand, Timmy, she actually likes you. I’d blame it on your magic, but we both know your magic is all about dead things and the earth. Besides, Victoria laughs off illusions and mind control.”

  Avraniel skimmed through the contract, and her smile grew wider with each moment until she handed it to Timmy. He raised one eyebrow. This was a very generous contract. He’d have to send Vicky a cake or ten on her birthday. He’d definitely be able to afford it if everything went to plan.

  “We’ll take the mission.” The elf cackled. “And your reward too.” She rubbed her hands together and nodded at the rats. “That thing you want to build – you’ll get your funding once all of this is over. We can test it outside the castle.”

  Timmy cringed. Was he going to have another lake near his castle? “Make sure you test it well away from the castle.” He nodded at James. “How are we going to get in? Avraniel is kind of legendary.” The elf smirked. “He’ll recognise me too if he’s done his homework on necromancers. I can send the rest of my zombies back to my castle, but he must have patrols and border guards, people who check incoming travellers. I’m guessing that Gerald and Katie will be okay though.”

  “We have someone who knows the area and has been travelling there regularly. We share a common interest in keeping the peace.” James smiled thinly. “He sells plants, of all things, and he’s liable to ramble and make up the most outrageous stories. But he will help you, and the people there are used to him. You should be able to pose as travellers accompanying him without drawing much suspicion.
He’ll meet you in the mountains before you reach Lord Taylor’s territory. He is trustworthy, and if you need to discuss the mission with him, you may.”

  “I’m not sure how much his trustworthiness means coming from you,” Timmy said.

  “Oh, shut up,” James scoffed. “If I was going to kill you, I’d do it myself. I certainly wouldn’t let some demon brat take you down. In any case, we’ve already made preparations to reduce the odds of your group being recognised.” He nodded at one of his men who threw several packages to them. “Have fun with those. I look forward to the results.”

  Avraniel ripped open her package and glared. “I am not dyeing my hair. And are these eye drops to change the colour of my eyes?”

  “Would you rather get killed?” Timmy asked. “Magic might be more convenient for changing our appearance, but any half-demon mage would notice that a mile away. Heck, Lord Taylor would probably see right through it.”

  Avraniel growled. “Fine.” She pointed at Katie. “But only if the twerp and the rat have to do it too.” Rembrandt glared back with his good eye.

  “What?” Katie held Rembrandt protectively. “No!”

  “Just go with it,” Timmy said. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to know what you’d look like with dark hair, and Rembrandt would look pretty interesting with grey fur – that’s when he’s not keeping out of sight.” He pointed at the rats. “I don’t know if Lord Taylor knows about you guys, so try not to draw attention.”

  * * *

  They left the area a week later, looking decidedly different except for Gerald. They’d given him a hat and a fake moustache and called it a day. They’d quibbled about it at first before realising that one of Gerald’s unique characteristics, along with his magic, was his being utterly forgettable to people who weren’t around him regularly. No one in James’s group – except James – seemed able to describe Gerald well even though they’d spent a week not far away from the bureaucrat. It was amazing, and Timmy wondered if it was magic.